


this is what it's like when we collide

by TheWritingManiac



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Brooklyn Nine-Nine AU, Detectives, F/M, Police AU, Slow Burn, percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 07:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20578703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingManiac/pseuds/TheWritingManiac
Summary: in which Percy and Annabeth are detectives and reluctant partners on a case concerning the infamous Titan gang, and they may or may not make a stupid bet on who can have the most arrests in six months.





	this is what it's like when we collide

**this is what it’s like when we collide**

•

The truth is that Percy didn’t think it would end this way.

Going out in a blaze of glory, taking down drug dealers, making New York a safer place for the millions of innocent civilians who make their home here—it’s all part of his life story, something he’s pictured ever since he had first dreamt of becoming a police officer at five years old. He always knew it would be a difficult life, always knew that the world would fight against him for every step he managed to take.

But this—

He looks out over the city. It’s almost dusk, and the lights from the skyscrapers cast a steady glow over the city, the familiar sounds of cars honking and people talking and the general, heartbeat of life pulsing in his ears. He breathes it in, because this could be the last time he’ll be able to, the last time he will ever—

“Dude, really. The music?”

Jerked out of his daydream, Percy spreads his arms. “What?”

The woman next to him sighs. “You brought a _boombox_ into the car and started playing dramatic music, right as we’re about to make the biggest drug bust of the year, because…?”

“It’s the soundtrack from _Wonder Woman! _You can’t go wrong with epic cinematic background music, Annabeth. It makes us look _cool._” He slides a pair of shades onto his nose, wiggling his eyebrows.

Growling, Annabeth grabs them and shoves them into the breast pocket of her uniform. Percy’s honestly kind of surprised she didn’t snap them in two, but apparently she managed to restrain herself.

“Get it together, man,” Annabeth says before turning to the SWAT team around them, assembled and looking to them for direction. She signals to them as she whispers, “Alright, everyone—head in.”

They all file into the building, standing by the door closed door. Inside, Percy can dimly hear a few men murmuring in low tones.

Next to him, gun at the ready, Annabeth mouths, _three, two, one—_and the officer by the door kicks it down. Suddenly police are streaming into the room and listing rights, and everything is chaos, and then there’s a slightly tinny, epic orchestral soundtrack added to the noise.

Annabeth turns to him, disbelief evident. “_Really_, Jackson?”

Percy holds up his phone with a grin. “Don’t need the boombox, although the effect probably would have been better.”

Annabeth sighs and turns away from him, speaking to another officer about the bags of cocaine collected from the raid. It’s all over in a few moments—the dealers are hustled away to a van and the SWAT team goes back to—well, whatever they do, Percy doesn’t really know.

He swings an arm over Annabeth’s shoulders as they head back to the car. “Good job, partner. We brought them in.”

Annabeth shrugs his arm off, rolling her eyes. “Yep, no thanks to your soundtrack.”

Percy opens the car door and ducks inside. “Don’t be rude to the soundtrack, Chase. It did the best it could under the circumstances.”

She ignores his comment, buckling her seatbelt. “Back to the precinct?”

“Yep. Gotta get started on this paperwork, and I also want to rub this in Thalia’s face. She bet me twenty bucks that we wouldn’t get any dealers on this bust, and I told her—”

“Save it for Thalia, Jackson,” Annabeth says, nodding at his seatbelt as he started the car. “Also, seatbelt.”

“Aww, you secretly care about me!” he croons, obeying.

“Nope, just don’t want to have to do all the paperwork that would require getting a new partner.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that and focus on the fact that you don’t want me to die,” Percy says brightly.

Once they arrive at the precinct, the first person to greet them is Grover. “Everyone, stand up! Percy Jackson is _back._” He pumps his fist in the air, chanting, “Jackson, Jackson, Jackson…” Nobody joins the chant, and Grover trails off.

“Hey, buddy,” Percy greets him with an elaborate fistbump. “Grace!” he calls, looking over at Thalia’s desk. “Six bags of coke in the evidence lockup, worth thousands of dollars. You owe me twenty bucks.”

Thalia stomps over, a rare smirk on her face. “Good job, Jackson.”

Percy puts his hand over his heart. “This day is just _full _of surprises. Chase not wanting me to die, Thalia _smiling—_”

The smirk vanishes. “Never again,” she promises, her combat boots carrying her briskly back to her desk.

Next to him, Annabeth’s exchanging stories with Frank, their heavily-muscled sergeant, as he inhales a container of yogurt. “So the SWAT team came in, right, and McCreary almost ran, but I had him by the door before—”

Just then, the door of the captain’s office opens, and the bustling room goes silent.

Percy grins and walks up to the intimidating, middle-aged olive-skinned man in front of the room. “Howdy, captain. Did you hear about the drug bust Chase and I made?”

Captain di Angelo’s facial expression doesn’t change from the intimidating mask he literally _always _wears. Percy doesn’t actually know how he does it; most of his workout every day comes from moving his face. Like, seriously. How do you talk without moving your face?

“Well done, Jackson, Chase,” di Angelo says, nodding serenely.

Annabeth gasps a little. “Thank you, Caption di Angelo,” she squeaks out.

Captain di Angelo glances at her. “I’m thinking about putting you and Jackson on a different case that the 97th precinct has been struggling with for some time. Do you think you would be up for the job?”

“Yes,” Annabeth says, sounding strangled.

Percy slings an arm over Annabeth’s shoulder. “Of course, Captain,” he says smoothly.

The captain nods. “I shall give you more information soon.” His impassive gaze sweeps over the bustling floor of the precinct once before turning around and walking back to his office.

As soon as the door slams, Annabeth crumples into her chair. “He asked me to work on a case. A case the 97 has been struggling with for months!”

Percy grins. Annabeth Chase is a classic overachiever, and she has idolized Caption di Angelo since the minute he walked in the door three years before. “You do realize he asked me, too, right? We’re going to be working this case forever.”

Annabeth shoots him a glare. “Yes, Jackson, I realized that. Unfortunately I’ll just have to deal with your constant incompetence so I can work this case and Caption di Angelo will finally realize my full potential as a detective and hopefully a sergeant in the future.”

Percy smirks, grabbing a stick of licorice from the overflowing drawers of his very messy desk, and swings his leg over the desk, chomping on the licorice obnoxiously. “Talk dirty to me, Chase,” he drawls.

From behind them, Thalia lets out a barking laugh. Annabeth flips both of them off and goes back to her tidy pile of paperwork.

Percy sends a disparaging glance toward his own paperwork. It’s a ridiculously huge pile, and he really doesn’t want to get started on the mountain, but if he doesn’t Annabeth will bug him about it later.

Then, an idea comes to him.

He casually picks up his entire pile of paperwork, almost drops it because okay, he doesn’t do weights and why the hell is the pile so _heavy, _paper shouldn’t be this heavy—and carries it, groaning, across the room before letting the entire pile fall onto a desk.

The man sitting at the desk picking his fingernails glances up. His large potbelly strains against the buttons of his obnoxious Hawaiian shirt, and there’s something smeared across his face—icing? barbeque sauce? who knows—and Percy swallows, smiling winningly.

“Hey, Mr. D. So. You know that new food truck on the corner?”

Mr. D raises his eyebrows nonchalantly, but Percy knows his interest is peaked. “What about it?”

“I will buy you _two _of your new favorite meatball subs if you finish this pile of paperwork for me,” Percy promises.

Mr. D squints, looking suspicious. “And a cupcake from that new bakery a block over?”

Percy struggles to keep the bright smile on his face. “Um. Yes. Fine.”

Mr. D leans back in his well-worn chair, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses on his sweat-beaded face. “Deal.”

Percy holds out his hand to shake before seeing some unknown substance on Mr. D’s fat fingers and thinks better of it. “I’ll have your subs for you in ten minutes.”

“Five,” Mr. D says testily as he opens the first folder.

Percy bites his tongue. “Five.”

“Hey, he gets two meatball subs? What about me?” Tantalus asks from the opposite desk.

Percy freezes before sighing and turning around, pasting a wide smile on his face. “Tantalus! Hey! I just asked Mr. D to do some of my paperwork and…”

Tantalus stands up. His grossly thin frame is only emphasized by the rolls of fat expanding from under Mr. D’s greasy button-up. “Why does he always get the paperwork? I want a sub, too!”

Percy sighs. “Fine, I’ll get you a sub too, but you’ll have to do my paperwork tomorrow.”

Tantalus sticks out his lower lip, looking for all the world like a sickly-skinny five year old with wrinkles and a bald spot, greasy in the overhead lights. “Fine.”

Percy grins and heads back to his desk. This day’s been pretty good, as days go in the Brooklyn Ninety-Ninth precinct.

•

“So, I hope you both understand how huge this case is,” Captain di Angelo says sternly the next morning, leaning forward and crossing his hands on his desk.

Annabeth nods fervently. “Oh, yes sir. We understand completely.”

“Really?” the captain asks, raising his eyebrows at Percy.

Percy guiltily sets down the sparkly rainbow Rubix cube that he’d been playing with. “Oh, yes, Captain. Super big deal, yada yada yada. I get it.”

Annabeth glares. Percy smiles angelically, taking a seat and leaning forward. “So what are the details of the case, sir?”

Di Angelo straightens his wire-rimmed glasses on his nose and glances down at the pile of papers in his lap. “The 97 has been working this case for seven months, and their best detectives have given up. Unfortunately, this case has become more pressing within the last twenty-four hours.”

Annabeth takes a seat, the wrinkle between her blonde eyebrows furrowing. “More pressing, sir? How?”

“The case has to do with the Titan gang that has been terrorizing sections of Brooklyn for the past year. Before this, they haven’t taken any lives in years, but a few days ago a security camera picked up footage of a few well-known members of the gang throwing a body in a dumpster. Yesterday, the 85th precinct found another body in a dumpster in their area, another gang member. We’re worried that a string of homicides, gang members and non-members alike, are going to follow.”

Percy lets out a quiet breath through his teeth. “So we know they’re getting more edgy. What do you think they’re doing, killing their own members? Is it an inside feud, or are they perhaps narrowing the inner circle and getting rid of people who have information that could hurt them?”

Captain di Angelo nods solemnly. “We can only guess at their intentions for now, but the 97 believed they were increasing their members and money for a reason.”

Annabeth bites her lip. “A big job—hitting banks, prisons, something like that?”

“Again, we don’t know for sure, but it’s certainly possible,” the captain says. “Now, I’m putting you two on the case for a reason, despite the fact that you don’t get along that well. Despite your differences, you work well together, as was proven by your work yesterday in the drug bust.”

Percy thinks Annabeth’s chest might burst if it puffs out any farther from pride. He stifles a laugh. “Yes sir,” she says, beaming. “We will certainly do our best on this case.”

Percy shoots mini finger guns at her. “We sure will.”

Annabeth looks like she’s counting to ten, taking a deep breath silently. Percy thinks a flicker of a smile passes across the captain’s normally impassive face, but it could be a trick of the light.

“Dismissed,” di Angelo tells them, turning back to his computer, and Percy holds the door for Annabeth, smirking. Her face is red as she stalks out, waiting until he follows her out of the office to explode.

“Jackson! What the hell!”

He spreads his hands. “Chill, Chase. What’s the problem?”

“The _problem _is you acting like an immature brat around the captain, about your job—”

“Hey!” He points a finger at her. “I work hard at my job, and you know that, Chase.”

She rolls her eyes and jerks her head toward Mr. D and Tantalus as they smear meatball sauce all over their faces, busy with the slowly diminishing pile of Percy’s paperwork. “You call that working hard?”

He shrugs. “Paperwork isn’t my strong suit, okay. In the field, though? I get just as many arrests as you do, if not more.”

Annabeth crosses her arms. “Yeah? Prove it.”

Percy smirks. “Alright, I will.” He stomps to the whiteboard and draws _Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase: Arrest Records._

“What are you doing?” Annabeth asks, doubt flickering in her voice.

“This, Chase, is a running tally of arrest records. Starting now, we write down every arrest we get. In six months, we’ll see who has the most.”

Annabeth considers. “That’s actually not a bad idea.” She spins on her heels, facing him. “So what’s the prize if I win?”

“Um, the bragging rights?” Percy suggests. “Wouldn’t you like to be able to brag to everybody that you got more arrests than I did?”

“Obviously, but I’m going to need more motivation than that.” Annabeth narrows her eyes at him. “How about your car?”

“My _car_?” Percy yelps. “I love my car! She’s my baby!”

Annabeth sighs. “Percy, your car is a yellow Volkswagen bug from the seventies. I don’t think you’ve changed the oil _once_ in the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, but—” Percy searches his memory. “Wait, how long haveyou known me?”

“Ever since I started working here, so about seven years,” Annabeth replies. “Point is, your car is a piece of junk.”

“So why do you want it?” Percy asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

She grins. “Because I know how much you love it.”

“Wow, Chase,” Percy says, shaking his head sadly. “I’m hurt.”

“So you’ll agree?”

“I have to think of something for you to give me if I win, though,” Percy replies, before snapping his fingers. “I’ve got it!”

Annabeth juts her hip out skeptically. “Yeah? What?”

Percy points at her triumphantly. “If I win, you have to go on a date with me.”

Annabeth’s eyes bulge. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

“If I win, you have to go on a date with me,” Percy repeats patiently.

She brushes him aside. “No, I heard that part, smartass. But why? You don’t even like me!”

“That’s the point,” Percy says, grinning. “It’ll be the worst date ever. I’m putting it in my calendar right now.” He grabs his phone from his back pocket, not breaking eye contact with Annabeth. “Hey Siri, set a reminder for the worst date ever with Annabeth Chase in six months.”

Siri’s tinny voice echoes brightly. “I’ve set a reminder for the worst date ever with Annabeth Chase on March 20th, 2019.”

Percy raises his eyebrows. “So, Chase? Do you accept?”

She huffs. “Well, seeing how it’s already in your calendar, I’m just going to have to win and make you erase it.”

Percy wiggles his eyebrows. “Then it’s a deal.” He walks forward and they shake hands, her grip like a death-vice on his hand.

“May the best woman win,” she says smugly as she releases his hand.

Percy resists the urge to shake his aching hand out. “Confident words for a loser,” he sings.

Annabeth just grins. “We’ll see about that, Jackson.”

Percy turns around and realizes the entire workroom has stopped to watch their entire exchange. “You hear that, everyone?” he shouts, jumping onto a table. “Chase is gonna go on a date with me in six months! Mark your calendars!”

“Hey Siri, remind me to watch Percy give Annabeth his car in six months from now,” Thalia says into her phone.

Percy scowls at her. “Don’t be rude, Thalia.”

She shrugs, the corner of her mouth turning up unapologetically.

Percy ignores her. “So it begins, y’all.” He raises his hands dramatically. “Stay tuned for the Chase vs. Jackson competition, starting now.”

The entire room erupts into cheering and applause, and, beaming, Percy jumps off the table with a whoop. So yeah, he might twist his ankle a little, and Annabeth may or may not laugh at him, but despite that he thinks it’s a pretty good start.

•

Percy scowls. “So why are we going through these old case files again? How is this going to help?”

Annabeth blows a curl out of her face and sighs. “This is the fourth time I’ve explained this, Jackson. How long is it going to take to sink in?”

Okay, so. Confession: he’s bored and just wants to get a rise out of Annabeth, but she’s been so focused on the case files that he can’t. It’s annoying.

“As many times as it takes for me to get it,” he answers, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“With your intellect that might take a while,” Annabeth mutters.

“Um, rude. I have plenty of intellect, I just choose to use it on something other than these stupid case files,” Percy replies, haphazardly tossing a file over his shoulder.

“So, have you found any reference to the Titan gang? We need to know their meeting spots, hold ups, members… anything that could be connected to this case,” Annabeth changes the subject abruptly.

“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing going through these files!” Percy says triumphantly. “I knew I’d get it out of you eventually.”

Annabeth spreads her hands. “I’ve told you this _three times, _you dolt.”

Percy shrugs. “Wasn’t listening.”

Annabeth doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead just staring at him. “So. References?”

Percy knows she doesn’t expect him to have anything, so he relishes in her look of surprise when he pulls out a stack of folders. “Yes, actually. In 2009, the Titan gang was held responsible for a string of murders in Brooklyn. They never actually caught the murderers, but there were witnesses that placed them with the gang. After all the press from the murders, they laid low for a while, but in 2012 someone connected them to some robberies on the east side, and there were a few kidnappings, though no murders. They’ve been active ever since. In 2015 they began dealing in heroin and have since added cocaine and marijuana to their inventory, dealing it to minors and unauthorized dealers. However, until the bodies found a few weeks ago, there haven’t been any homicides since the murders in 2009.”

Annabeth’s jaw is dropped. Percy smirks silently as she gets her voice back, her cheeks a little red as she says, flustered, “Um. Okay. Well, I’m glad you took my advice and studied up on the case.”

“Oh, I’d never want to disappoint the great Annabeth Chase,” Percy says dryly, turning back to the case files.

A shadow passes over her face too quickly for Percy to decipher it as she turns back to shuffling through her own pile of files. “I think some door-to-door work around the neighborhood where the man was killed would be helpful,” she says, thinking out loud.

Percy shrugs. “Yeah, sure. I’m driving.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and tosses him the keys. “Be my guest.”

Percy makes sure to make her regret her decision; he stops for street food three times, runs into a gas station to go to the bathroom and gets distracted talking to the owner, an elderly man from Puerto Rico who loves cats and cigars. Annabeth has to come in and drag him back to the car, but not before Percy promises to stop by again.

“Honestly, it’s like taking a road trip but with a five year old driver,” Annabeth grumps as she settles back into her seat. “We left for a fifteen minute drive _two hours ago, _Jackson. How does that even _happen?_”

Percy grins, taking a huge bite of his cheesy enchilada he got from a food truck. “I dunno, Chase. Obviously you just don’t know how to experience the simple joys in life.” He gestures, mouth full, to his enchilada. “Like this.”

Annabeth studies him. “You just want to get out of all the paperwork that’s waiting for you at the station.”

He shrugs. “You’re not _wrong…_”

Annabeth huffs, fastening her seatbelt. “Just drive, Jackson.”

They make it to the neighborhood relatively quickly after that, although there is an incident with Percy and a _really _cute puppy on the sidewalk which he may or may not stop the car to go pet. Annabeth just sighs, but Percy gets her to pet the puppy too. It’s kind of cute.

“So, you want to hit up the doors together, or divide them up?” Annabeth asks him after they’ve parked, looking up at the large apartment complex in front of them.

“Together,” Percy decides.

Annabeth shrugs, heaving open the door. “Together, then.”

They go door to door, asking about witnesses, strange occurrences around the neighborhood recently, any suspicious activity. Most of what they get is completely unhelpful or ridiculous, or both, and they’re on the second to last door when they finally get something good.

“There’s been this man hanging around here, tall and blond, with a long scar on his face,” the teen who opened the door says boredly, popping her gum. Percy hears Annabeth inhale sharply, but she stays quiet. “Sometimes he’s with this other guy with an eyepatch. I remembered, because I was walking my dog and the guy with the eye patch wanted to pet him, but the other guy wouldn’t let him, and I thought it was weird.”

Percy nods, scribbling frantically on his notepad. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Yeah, they’ve been around a couple of times. My brother was out for a run early one morning, and he said they were digging around in the dumpsters in the alleyway, like they were looking for something.”

Percy glances at Annabeth. She’s pale, but seems focused on the girl’s story. “Did your brother hear what they were saying?”

The teen nods. “He said the blond guy was yelling at the other one for something, but he didn’t catch what. The blond guy wasn’t wearing a shirt even though it was pretty chilly, so my brother just thought they were druggies at the time. When eyepatch dude tried to pet my dog, they seemed totally normal, though.”

Percy points at her with his pen. “Eyepatch dude. I like it. Any suggestions for blond scar guy?”

The girl raises her eyebrows. “Um. Scar guy?”

Percy presses his lips together. “A bit unoriginal.”

“What about _Wings_, for his tattoo?” Annabeth suggests, still scribbling down notes.

Percy and the girl turn to her with equal expressions of weirdness. The girl says slowly, “I never saw his tattoo, but my brother _did_ said something about one, now that you mention it. He said it was this huge one on the blond guy’s back, like—”

“A huge pair of angel wings?” Annabeth suggests, and the teen nods, dumbfounded. Annabeth shuts her notebook and shoves it into her back pocket. “I think we have enough information for now, Percy. Let’s go.”

Flabbergasted, Percy thanks the teen for her cooperation and runs after Annabeth, who’s striding down the hall quickly. “What the hell, Chase? How did you know that, about the tattoo?”

“I think I know who we’re dealing with,” Annabeth says grimly. “We have to go to Captain di Angelo right away.”

•

“Luke Castellan?” Captain di Angelo asks incredulously. The slight raise of his eyebrows is the most emotion Percy’s ever seen on him, he thinks. “Are you sure?”

“If this girl’s information is correct—and I have no reason to believe it’s not—then yes, sir,” Annabeth says firmly.

Di Angelo turns away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs.

“Can _somebody _please clue me into this guy, Luke Casta-what’s-his-name?” Percy asks, jumping up.

“Castellan,” Annabeth says without looking at him. “We were in police school together, actually. I’ve known him for since I was eighteen years old, but I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Yeah, so why is this such a big deal?” Percy asks, exasperated.

“Castellan was involved on a training mission only a few months before he and Chase graduated,” the captain says without turning around. “It was supposed to be a simple run, a drugs bust, but something—something went wrong.”

Percy sneaks a glance at Annabeth. Her face is a stone mask, but she swallows and looks away.

“The gang—the Titans, actually—shot Castellan and took him hostage. It was over a month before police found him, in a sewer. He’d obviously been tortured for information, although why they tried to get it from a police trainee who wasn’t even supposed to be a part of that raid is still a mystery. That’s where he got the scar on his face. The press were never informed, and the story never made it past the academy. I was only informed of all this after we gained control of this case.

“After his kidnapping, Castellan was changed, or so I’m told. I’ve never met him, but his friends and superiors said he was never the same. After recovering in the hospital from his captivity, he quit police school and went to live in Virginia, but a few years back—2015, I believe—he joined the Titan gang and very publicly made his debut after stealing millions of dollars’ worth of cocaine from another well-known gang. The resulting feud between gangs was very well publicized, and Castellan’s been working with the Titans ever since.”

Percy turns to Annabeth. “So that’s why you were so eager about this case,” he says. “You went to school with him.”

“I barely knew him,” Annabeth says coldly.

“Then how did you know about the wings on his back?” Percy demands.

She shrugs. “College parties, swimming pools. He was pretty popular, and a lot of people had seen his tattoo.”

Percy studies her. She doesn’t seem like she’s lying, but something doesn’t feel right. He shrugs it off and turns back to Captain di Angelo. “So what’s our next move?”

“Gather all the information you can on Luke Castellan. Chase, I know this is personal for you, and if you need me to transfer the case to someone else—”

“No!” Annabeth bursts out, too quickly. Percy glances at her. “I mean. No, captain. It’s fine.”

The captain studies her, and seems to decide she’s telling the truth. He turns back to his desk. “See if you can get some interviews with any convicts who are associated with the Titan gang. Anything on Castellan and that other man, with the eyepatch.”

“Eyepatch dude,” Percy puts in proudly.

Di Angelo stares at him, unimpressed. “I don’t care what you call him, Jackson. Just get information. A real name. Dismissed.”

•

They do manage to get a couple interviews with convicts from the gang, and one, who’s nearing the end of his jail time and desperate for good behavior marks, eagerly answers any question they have in detail. They find out that Eyepatch Dude’s real name is Ethan Nakamura (“I still like _eyepatch dude _better,” Percy says stubbornly. “Shut up, Jackson—”) and that he and Luke are some of the top bosses.

“Doesn’t that seem a little strange, though?” Annabeth muses one day on their walk back to the precinct from lunch. It’s become a thing—almost every day they go out for lunch together at little hole-in-the-wall diners, discuss the case over deliciously greasy burgers or thick-crusted pizza dripping with cheese. Percy has learned that Annabeth loves fries with vanilla milkshakes, and thinks that maraschino cherries are an abomination, so he happily eats them for her.

“Doesn’t it?” Annabeth prods, drawing him back into the conversation.

He blinks. “Um, all of this is technically a bit strange. What specifically?”

“That two of the top guys themselves are depositing bodies in dumpsters,” Annabeth explains. Since they took charge of the case, there have been three more murders, all found in dumpsters by various precincts around the city. “Don’t they have like, I don’t know, goons for that type of thing?”

Percy surveys her amusedly. “Goons?”

She waves him off. “You know what I mean.”

He considers. “I suppose so. Maybe the job’s touchy enough that they have to do it themselves.”

Annabeth shakes her head thoughtfully. “They’re just throwing bodies in dumpsters. Anyone could do that.”

“Why, have you tried?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yep, I’m secretly a criminal mastermind.”

“No, you’re a goon, remember?”

“Oh trust me, if I was part of any criminal organization, I’d be the mastermind,” Annabeth tells him dryly.

Percy squints. “How did we even start talking about this? Like, now I feel if that you ever _do _become a criminal mastermind I’ll look back on this conversation and realize that’s when it all started.”

“Wow, Jackson. I mean, at least you’re admitting I have the _potential _to become a criminal mastermind, right?”

Percy shakes his head quickly. “No, no, no. I’m not answering that. Don’t want to encourage you.”

Annabeth chokes on a laugh. They’ve reached the precinct, and Percy holds the door for her, because he’s a _gentleman_. She grins at him, and it’s times like these when Percy actually _likes _Annabeth Chase.

Sometimes he thinks maybe, if they’d met somewhere outside the precinct, and hadn’t been fighting like cats and dogs for so many years, and maybe if they weren’t both so stubborn, and competitive, they could have been friends. Real friends, he means, and not just partners out of convenience and necessity.

But those kinds of thoughts are dangerous when you’re a detective in a dangerous city. Sure, he’s friends with most of his coworkers—to be perfectly honest, Captain di Angelo is kind of the dad he’s always wanted, and Thalia’s like an annoying older sister that he secretly loves, and Frank keeps him in stitches, and Piper—Piper’s been there for him since they were kids, why would she stop just since she got a job as a secretary for the 99th precinct. A job, he might add, that he most definitely had a hand in getting her. And of course there’s Grover—his buddy, his best friend, his partner in—well, definitely _not _crime, but like. Almost.

But these people—the job is hard, and long, and dangerous, and maybe it’s good that he and Annabeth never got along that well.

It only takes a split second and a bullet, and then your partner’s just—_gone_.

Percy’s learned this the hard way.

His hand begins to shake, and he steadies it, shakes his head quickly to clear his thoughts. He’s _over _this, over thinking about that night over nine years ago that still haunts him to this day.

Or at least, he thought he was.

Annabeth’s watching him closely, studiously, and Percy tries to school his expression, but. She’s a top-notch detective for a reason.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and for once it’s not about the case, it’s not about the precinct or paperwork or whatever other damn thing comes up between them, it’s just Annabeth Chase asking him if he’s okay.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine,” he says, and she shrugs and turns away, pressing the elevator button.

For some reason, he’s a little disappointed. He can’t exactly pinpoint why.

They step into the elevator and wait in a semi-awkward silence as it whizzes upward, finally opening the metal doors smoothly with _ding._

Percy steps out of the elevator and is immediately hit with a very pink, very fuzzy slipper.

“What the _hell,_” he says blankly, and then Piper McLean is standing in front of him, her comically short frame bristling with rage.

“Perseus Jackson,” she says, and yep, Percy’s definitely in trouble. “Why did you throw my space heater out the window?”

Oh. Yep, he definitely deserved that slipper-smack. “Um, Grover and I were kind of having a competition?” he says, trying to grin.

Piper’s perfect eyebrows furrow deeper as she scowls. “A _competition?”_

“We, um. We were trying to see who could live the space heater for the longest without burning our hands, but we were doing it by the window, and earlier Mr. D had opened it because he caught his toast on fire again and the entire room was filled with smoke. Anyway, I had held it for thirty-three seconds, two longer than Grover, so in victory I threw it up in the air, but it kind of fell onto the windowsill and teetered there for a second before falling out.”

Piper’s expression could honestly have made a weaker man cringe, and Percy is undeniably a weak man when standing in from of Piper McLean. He winces under her non-blinking stare of shame.

“That space heater—” she points out the window, “was one-hundred forty-three dollars, forty-eight cents. You will pay me back in full, _and _come clean out my closet this weekend, as an apology.”

“Your _closet? _Again?” Percy asks, groaning. “I think I almost stabbed my eye out with a stiletto on accident last time you made me—”

“No _buts,_” Piper says firmly, spinning on her heel. “Oh, hi, Annabeth.”

“Piper,” Annabeth says dryly as Piper spins around and saunters back to her desk.

Percy scowls. “Her _closet,_” he repeats. “Why? Why did it have to be me?”

“To be fair, the space heater competition probably wasn’t your proudest moment,” Annabeth comments as they walk to their desks.

“Yeah, but her closet is deadly, Chase,” Percy tells her, completely serious, as he plops down in his seat. “Plus, I’m broke. This morning I couldn’t find any food in my house, so I ate Fruit Loops that were three years expired. I found them under my bed, and there were _ants _that I had to pick out. Ants, Annabeth!”

She’s shaking her head at him, laughing. “On one hand, I’m not actually surprised, but on the other I’m actually worried. Do you even know how to go grocery shopping?”

“Um. I try to avoid it,” Percy says evasively.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, tonight after we get off. I’m taking you grocery shopping.”

“What?” Percy asks blankly.

“We can discuss the case while we’re there,” Annabeth puts in smoothly. “Technically, it won’t be outside of work. And you really need to learn how to grocery shop.”

“What’s so bad about hanging out with me outside of work, even if it’s to teach me how to grocery shop since I’m an incompetent adult?” he asks innocently.

Annabeth blinks. “I never said you were _incompetent—_”

“Not right now, but you definitely implied it. Plus the other day you were cleaning out the precinct fridge, and you found the dinosaur chicken nuggets I left in there six months ago, and you called me—and I quote—an ‘incompetent mess of a human who doesn’t know how to grow up and take responsibility for himself,’” Percy says.

Annabeth flushes slightly. “I suppose I was a bit harsh,” she admits. “But do you know what it’s like to open a container expecting someone’s week-old salad, at the worst, and find six-month-old _chicken nuggets?_ Percy, I’m pretty sure the dinosaurs had turned into fossils. If you had buried them, archeologists would have thought they found a new species.”

Percy snorts with laughter. “They weren’t _that _bad.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Yeah? In six months, clean out the fridge. I can guarantee that you’ll have left something in there, and you can get a good whiff of it. Then come talk to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine, point proven. So. Grocery shopping?”

Annabeth nods firmly. “Yes. You’re going to learn the correct way to shop if it kills me.”

“There’s a _correct_ way to shop?” he asks. “Isn’t that, like, a matter of opinion?”

“Yes, except _my_ opinion is correct,” Annabeth says.

He squints at her. She squints back at him.

Captain di Angelo, passing by their desks, glances at them quizzically. “If the two of you could stop acting like children and focus on the case, perhaps we’d actually get somewhere with it,” he comments mildly.

Annabeth flushes, ducking her head and scribbling frantically on a piece of random paperwork. “Yes, captain. Sorry, captain.” Even Percy can see that the paper’s upside down and she’s writing random words on it in hopes of looking like she’s doing something. He sends her a stealthy thumbs up, and she glares at him.

The captain nods once and continues into his office. Annabeth’s shoulders relax comically, and she drops the pen, sighing.

“Why do you care so much about what he thinks?” Percy asks curiously.

“What?”

“Why do you care so much about what the captain thinks? You’ve been like this ever since he started working here—always trying to impress him and do the best work you possibly can.”

Annabeth sends him a death stare. “Percy, I _always _try to do the best work I can possibly do. Everyone’s supposed to do that.”

He waves her off. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

She shrugs, a little self-consciously. “I guess—it’s always been a dream of mine to have a mentor, you know? Someone who can teach me and guide me and give me recommendations and—”

“So why don’t you just ask him?” Percy suggests.

She looks panicked. “I can’t do that! What if he doesn’t want to, or he doesn’t think I’m worthy of his time, or—”

Percy leans towards her. “Annabeth, you are literally one of the most dedicated detectives I’ve ever known. You take your job ridiculously seriously, and anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

“Yeah?” Annabeth asks, quiet.

He nods firmly. “Yeah.”

“It’s just—it’s been a dream for so long that I don’t know… I don’t know what I’d do if it didn’t work out,” she confesses.

“I mean, yeah. Maybe you’ll go up to him, and ask, and for whatever reason, it won’t work. But wouldn’t you rather _know _that, than just keep hoping, and never making that dream a reality?” Percy asks. “He’s been here for three years already. How much longer are you going to put it off?”

She nods, a little timidly, as she glances towards Captain di Angelo’s office. “I guess so.”

Percy juts his chin towards the office. “Then go, Annabeth. Just go for it.”

Annabeth stands up, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to go for it,” she repeats, like a mini-pep talk to herself.

Percy smiles. “That’s the spirit.”

She lifts her chin and walks toward the office. Percy watches her go, and wonders how all these years he could have been so wrong about Annabeth Chase.

•

“He said yes,” Annabeth says later. She still sounds shocked. “I can’t believe he said yes.”

Percy laughs a little as he shrugs on his coat. “I told you,” he says, not a little smugly.

She turns to him, an earnest expression on her face. “Thank you, Percy.”

He turns to her, surprised. “For what?”

Annabeth shrugs. “For giving me that push. Making me finally talk to the captain.”

Percy raises his eyebrows. “Well then, you’re welcome, I guess. It wasn’t much.”

“Yeah, but I needed it,” she admits.

He opens the door for her, gesturing with a wave of his hand. “My lady.”

Annabeth grins. They already decided to take her car to the nearest grocery store, since in her words _your car is honestly a one of the biggest miracles of humanity since Jesus lived because every day I expect you to say it’s broken down and you’re finally going to get rid of it but somehow every day you make it to the precinct—_to which he replied _I can’t get rid of it until after our bet, just on the very slight chance that you might win—_to which she just snorted and shook her head.

“Your car is so _clean,_” Percy marvels as he hops into the passenger seat. “How do you keep it so clean? Is it magic?”

“Nope, just a trash bag and a vacuum,” she answers dryly, starting the car and merging into the traffic.

Percy shakes his head. “Too much work. I’ll stick with just finding random hamburgers under the seats from three months ago. Plus, I never have to worry about getting dirty at work—I have about half my wardrobe in the backseat, I think.”

Annabeth snorts out a laugh. “That’s one plus, I suppose.” It’s a quick drive to the store, and she manages to pull into one of the last parallel parking spots.

Percy gapes. “You keep your car clean _and _you can parallel park? I’m seriously starting to think you’re a fairy or something.”

“A fairy? That’s the best you could do? I’m definitely a witch,” Annabeth deadpans.

Percy flourishes his hand in some strange imitation of a wand. “Yeah, well _I_ got my Hogwarts letter, so I’m definitely a wizard.”

“You _didn’t!_” Annabeth gasps as they hop onto the sidewalk. “How?”

Percy blushes. “We, uh, didn’t have much money growing up, so for my eleventh birthday, instead of a big expensive party, I woke up to my Hogwarts letter on my bed and a Gryffindor scarf that my mom had knitted. For breakfast, she had made treacle tarts and somehow found a recipe for butterbeer. It wasn’t much, but I loved every minute of it.”

Surprisingly, Annabeth’s grey eyes are a little misty. “Your mom sounds amazing,” she says quietly.

He nods. “Yeah, it was just the two of us growing up, but she’s incredible. I had a wonderful childhood.”

Annabeth nods and swallows. It’s quiet for a minute before she abruptly changes the subject. “So, how do you normally go grocery shopping?”

Percy follows her lead, getting the vibe that parents and childhood are touchy subjects. “Um, okay, so. I normally just—” he waves his hand vaguely. “Go around the store, and when I see something I need, I get it.”

Annabeth sighs. “Wow. We are going to be here a while.”

(Spoiler alert: they are.)

She begins by giving him a tour of the store (“Annabeth I don’t need to know where the organic bread is, I don’t think I’ve eaten a piece of organic bread in my _life—_”), and then teaches him how to make a list (“Just think of everything in your kitchen you need, when you’re probably going to go shopping next, and how much food you’ll need until your next trip.” “My kitchen is literally empty we’re going to be here for a while.”)

It takes them three hours and thirty-seven minutes to get everything Annabeth calls “the essentials,” which basically just means bread, milk, eggs, a bunch of canned goods, juice, flour, sugar, baking soda and powder, pasta, cheese, cereal, and more. Percy surveys the cart despondently when they’re done while Annabeth triumphantly checks things off her list.

“Annabeth.”

“What?”

He gestures to the cart. “I feel a bit overwhelmed.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” she says absentmindedly. “Besides, think of what having a nice, well-stocked kitchen will be like! You can cook literally _anything _now.”

“Well, for one, I don’t really cook much to begin with,” Percy says, but she shushes him.

“You will _learn,_” she says, and it’s obviously not up for discussion.

He pouts a bit as they check out. “Annabeth, all the cereal you got is organic and like, granola. Where’s the Froot Loops? Where’s my Captain Crunch? Where’s that cereal with the little rainbow marshmallows in it?”

“You honestly need to learn how to eat things that don’t have a disgusting amount of sugar in them,” she tells him firmly, but she lets him run and get one box of Froot Loops. Just one.

And Percy has to admit, when he gets home late that night with his arms full of groceries and sets about putting them away, his kitchen goes from sadly empty to something that actually reminds him of his mom’s kitchen, the essentials in place with some extra things as well.

He takes a picture and sends it to Annabeth, and when he falls asleep that night it’s with a smile on his face.

•

A few weeks later they come to a breakthrough.

The man with the eyepatch—Ethan Nakamura—is arrested as a police officer just happens to walk by where he’s throwing yet another body in the dumpster. He’s brought into the 99th precinct, and Annabeth and Percy are to be the first to talk to him.

They stand together silently, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking through the one-way glass into the tiny interrogation room where the man is sitting. He looks alarmingly unconcerned, twiddling his thumbs and whistling to himself.

“What do you think he knows?” Percy asks quietly, not taking his gaze off the man.

He feels, rather than sees, Annabeth tense next to him. “Everything,” she says, grim. “If he’s working with Lu—I mean, Castellan, then he knows a lot.”

Percy nods. “And the officer who brought him in said he saw a blond guy running from the scene. The only reason we got Eyepatch Dude—”

“Ethan Nakamura,” Annabeth puts in.

“The only reason we got Ethan Eyepatch Dude—hey, that actually has a good ring to it, Ethan Eyepatch—anyway, the only reason he’s even here is because there was only one officer present, and the guy literally tripped over his own shoes trying to get out of there.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little odd?” Annabeth questions, her grey gaze steadily glaring at the man. “One of the top gang members, and he just _happens _to be putting a body in that exact dumpster right as a uniformed officer was passing by that alley. And then the only way he gets caught is because he _tripped?_”

Percy shrugs. “Sometimes even the best criminals are stupid, Chase. They’re human, they make mistakes.”

“This seems like too much of a coincidence to be a mistake,” Annabeth mutters, but Percy’s not really listening anymore. He walks to the door and opens it for her, and sighing, she goes through with a nod of thanks.

“Ethan Nakamura,” Percy begins, pulling out a chair from the little table the man is handcuffed to and resting a foot on it. “You have been charged with multiple homicides, so your jail time is probably gonna be pretty hefty.”

The man raises his eyebrows cockily. Percy resists the urge to shiver. Being stared at by a guy with an eyepatch is no joke, okay. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Annabeth steps in. “But for some easy cooperation, we can probably bring that down a bit. Good behavior, some talking… we could cut that time in half.”

The man snorts. “What, blondie, you think I’m just going to squeal, just like that?” He spits at her, the glob landing on Annabeth’s cheek. She wipes it off with the back of her hand, her face like a stone wall.

Percy leans forward. “See, that’s the kind of behavior I wouldn’t recommend,” he says, quiet. “That’s the kind of behavior that, with a few words to the judge, we could extend your time by—what do you say, Chase? Five, ten years?”

Annabeth takes out her clipboard. “Ethan Nakamura, you are a member of the Titan gang, correct?”

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure you already knew that.”

Annabeth ignores him. “What is the purpose of dumping the dead bodies in the dumpsters?”

He leers at her. “You think I’m telling you that? Fucking dumb blonde stereotype, just combining it with a cop. This could be a sitcom.”

Percy sees Annabeth’s knuckles turning white on the clipboard. “Annabeth,” he says, soft.

Nakamura’s reaction is immediate. His leering expression vanishes, replaced by shock, and then smugness. “Annabeth Chase. I should have known.”

Annabeth looks at him coldly. “Care to explain that, or can we get back to the interrogation?”

Nakamura laughs. “Castellan always knew how to pick ‘em. I didn’t think he was actually telling the truth, though.”

Annabeth’s hands tremble, and her steady composure is suddenly gone. “What—what do you mean?” she demands.

“What the hell is he talking about, Annabeth?” Percy asks in a low voice.

Ethan looks incredulously from one to another. “You mean this guy doesn’t know? Shit, _Annabeth,_” he says, emphasizing her name slowly. “You should probably fill in your partner, don’t you think?”

Annabeth turns to him slowly. “I—I didn’t want to say anything. I thought it didn’t matter, I thought—”

“Castellan and Annabeth used to hook up in college,” Nakamura drawls, looking pleased with himself.

“It—it was just physical, between us,” Annabeth says hastily. “We weren’t dating or anything.”

“No?” Nakamura raises his eyebrows. “Castellan seemed to have said something different. Apparently he was getting pretty fond of you, Annabeth. When you dumped him for another guy—”

“That’s not what happened!”

“—he was devastated. That’s why he was on that training mission that day, trying to get his mind off his anger. He was an idiot and got himself captured, and all those days, weeks, of being tortured by the gang for information, he thought only of you.”

Annabeth has tears in her eyes, and she’s trembling like a leaf. “I never knew—”

“After he was found and brought back—well, you know the rest, don’t you, Annabeth?” Nakamura continues, smiling a little.

Percy’s never been more confused, more angry, in his life, and he can barely hear Annabeth from the roaring in his ears as he stomps out of the room—_Percy, wait, please—_and heads downstairs, ignoring the whispers and subtle glances from the other detectives and officers milling about the precinct.

He runs outside, feels the warm breeze in his hair and the sounds of the city—pedestrians yelling and horns honking and cars screeching—and he tries to breathe, tries to regain his composure and keep a grip on his anger, his hurt, but he _can’t._ Everything’s a little blurry, and there’s a red film in front of his eyes, and he can feel his heart pounding with every haggard breath he takes.

And then he hears it—a quiet, sobbed, _Percy _from behind him.

He turns, and sees Annabeth on the sidewalk.

He’s never seen her like this. Total defeat and despair radiate from her posture, and there are tear tracks on her cheeks.

“I need to talk to you,” she says.

Percy’s hands are trembling, and he doesn’t trust himself to speak, but he looks up and they’re right next to a little diner. He nods toward it, and they go in.

The diner is dark, and a little noisy. They file into a booth, waving away the waitress, and Percy finally finds his voice again.

“How—how could you not tell me? All of that?” he asks, voice shaking.

Annabeth brushes a tear from her eye. “I—I should have. You’re right, you’re completely right, but—hear me out before making your judgement? Please?”

He nods. She continues.

“When I was twenty years old, I met Luke Castellan. I was at a house party that one of my friends was holding, and I was a bit drunk, and suddenly he was just _there. _He was about a year older than me, but we had had some classes together in the past, and so I knew his face. He introduced himself, and we started talking, and stuff just escalated.

“I never thought at first that it would be anything more than that, you know? One night of drunk sex after a party really isn’t that big of a deal. I had hooked up with people before, we were both drunk, and I woke up the next morning with a hangover and scattered memories from the night before at best.

“But Luke—he remembered, and later that day, he found me at the cafeteria. We talked a bit, even though it was a little awkward, but he said the sex was great and asked if it could happen again sometime. I wasn’t in the place for a relationship—not by a long shot—but he was hot, and I was horny.” She laughs a little, remembering. “So we did. Hooked up pretty regularly, but it was never anything more than that on my part. Slowly we started hanging out more—we had a lot of mutual friends, and so we just started seeing each other at a lot of places. We became friends.

“One day, we met for lunch, which was pretty normal for us, but something was off. He was acting weird, and nervous, and I didn’t know why until he asked me if I wanted to go on an actual date sometime. I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship, and he—he blew up. Started calling me these awful names, and accusing me of leading him on, and I told him—I _told _him how we had decided from the beginning that this wasn’t going to be a romantic relationship, just fun. I was angry at him, angry that our friendship was ruined, angry that he had ignored what we had both said when we first started hooking up, angry that he had reacted in such a way.

“Two days later, I got the news that Luke had been on a training run, a drugs bust, and it had gone wrong. His head hadn’t been in the game, and one of the gang members had shot him. The rest of the team got away, but Luke was taken. I hadn’t realized until then how much I valued him, valued our friendship, and I felt like it was my fault. I had told him no, I had hurt him, and that was why he hadn’t been at his best on the run.”

Percy touches her hand over the table, hesitant. “Annabeth. That wasn’t your fault, not anywhere close. You can’t blame yourself. You guys obviously had really clear guidelines about what was going to happen in that relationship, and—okay, I get that he wanted to try to be in a real relationship, and I don’t blame him for that, but. When you said no, he reacted in a really shitty way, and there’s no excuse for that. That’s on him.”

Annabeth nods, her eyes glistening. “I know. I _know _that, and I try to believe it. I do, but. It’s hard, especially now, with all this being dredged up again. And that’s why I didn’t tell you—I still feel like it was my fault that he was captured, and for everything that happened afterwards.”

Percy bites his lip. “I get that. I do. But because this is an ongoing case—people have been _murdered, _Annabeth. And sure, they’re criminals. All the bodies we’ve found have the Titan tattoo on their wrists, but they don’t deserve to die because of whatever vendetta Luke is acting out on. This information, while not completely crucial to the case, it’s still _relevant, _that one of the lead detectives has history with one of the main gang members. And the things is that—now I don’t know if I can trust you completely. You withheld information from me, your partner on this case.”

She swallows. “I know. And I’m sorry. If you’re going to report me to the captain—”

“I’ll—I’ll need to think about it,” Percy tells her, although he already knows what he’s going to do. “And I’m sorry I reacted so harshly. Um. One of my first cases as a detective, my partner…” he closes his eyes. “My partner withheld some information that she didn’t think was necessary for the case, but it turned out to be vital info. She went out ahead of me one day for some field work on it, and I got there right as she was shot, right in front of me. Turns out the building we thought was abandoned was actually a main hold-up for the gang we were investigating, and we would have known that if she had communicated better with me, if I had told her what I knew sooner.” He takes a deep breath. “It was my fault that she died. And it was nine years ago—I had just graduated, working my first job, and my partner was killed because of withholding of information about the case.”

Annabeth’s hand closes over his. “Percy,” she says, soft.

Percy shakes his head, bitter laughter spilling out. “And the thing that gets me the most?” He closes his eyes. “If I had gotten there just a minute sooner, I could have saved her. I could have pushed her out of the way, I could have warned her the guy had a gun. But I wasn’t there. I failed to protect her.”

“It wasn’t your job to protect her,” Annabeth says quietly. “You’re detectives in New York. She knew what she was getting into. It wasn’t your fault, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it.”

“We’d only worked a few months together, but she was always there for me,” Percy admits. “And when it mattered most, I wasn’t there for her. She did her best to protect me, to make sure I didn’t get hurt. We were a team, and I let her down.”

“It wasn’t your fault that gang member had a gun. You should have communicated better, that’s true, but. You were learning, and the worst that could have happened—it happened. It was a horrible twist of chance, but it wasn’t—it _isn’t_—your fault that your partner died,” Annabeth says firmly, and Percy’s heart seems to contract with her words, with how much he wants to believe them.

“Sorry—sorry for dumping all that on you,” he says, wiping his eyes.

She laughs a little. “Guess we both have the tragic backstory thing going on, huh?”

“We certainly got the case for it,” Percy says drily. “Who knew it would have so much to do with—with both of us?”

Annabeth’s smile is dry. “Yeah.” She glances up at him, cautious. “So. Are you going to report me to the captain?”

He shakes his head. “No. Despite the personal investment in this case, I think we’re the most qualified for it. We’re going to catch these guys, and the murders are going to stop.”

Annabeth meets his eyes steadily. “Yeah,” she says, quiet, fierce. “Let’s do it.”

•

A few weeks later, it’s Halloween.

The day Percy has been looking forward to, planning out all year long. It’s the day everyone else in the precinct either dreads or cheers, the day when all the planning and plotting and gathering from the entire year comes to fruition.

It’s the Halloween Heist.

To explain—the first year di Angelo was captain, something happened between him and Percy. Percy honestly can barely remember it now—something to do with a speedo and silver glitter in the captain’s office, it’s all a bit of a blur—and somehow, the idea of a bet came on. It was Halloween, so Percy bet the newly-initiated captain that whoever had a little plastic pumpkin—which he meticulously set on top of a table in the middle of the precinct—by midnight would win.

The terms and conditions? If Percy lost, he would have to work overtime for the next two weeks without pay.

If he _won, _then Captain di Angelo had to admit his defeat in front of the entire precinct and publicly announce that Percy was an “amazing detective/genius.”

There were some harrowing adventures that year in those four hours of chaos. Friends were betrayed, foes teamed up, and one very confused parrot played for both sides, but in the end, Percy had managed to get the little plastic pumpkin and keep it by midnight, which declared him the victor.

He’s pretty sure it had started as a joke, but now the stakes had risen. Last year, Captain di Angelo had won, and a few other detectives had joined the fight for victory—Grover had been on Percy’s team, and Thalia had helped Captain di Angelo on the sly. No one knew for sure who was going to be competing this year, but no one was trustworthy.

“I’m not playing,” Annabeth declared primly, her nose in the air, when Percy asked a week before Halloween. “Your stupid Halloween heist interferes with the paperwork I have to get done, and besides, it’s childish and foolish and a waste of time.”

Coming from anyone else, Percy wouldn’t have believed it, or he would have thought it was simply a ploy to pretend like they weren’t competing. But with Annabeth—

“Whatever you say,” he had said, shrugging as he turned around in his chair and crossed off _Annabeth Chase _from his meticulous list of who might be competing.

On Halloween at exactly 8pm, he brings out the plaque as the entire precinct gathers around. “This plaque reads _Amazing Detective/Genius, _and I’m placing it here on this table as of…” he glances at his watch. “8:02pm. Whoever has the plaque by midnight tonight wins the heist, and everyone has to tell that person, whoever she or he may be, that they are an amazing detective/genius.”

“What if they’re an amazing genius, just not a detective?” Piper calls lazily from her secretary desk.

Percy considers. “Then I suppose we’ll all just tell that person that they’re a genius and leave it at that.”

Piper nods, satisfied.

Percy continues. “You all know the rules. Whoever wants to compete may do so, and you may use whatever means necessary—”

“Except violence,” Annabeth puts in smoothly from her desk, where she’s busily filling out paperwork and rolling her eyes at the whole ordeal.

Thalia pouts.

“_Except violence_, to get and keep the plaque,” Percy finishes. “Everyone clear?”

The crowd nods.

“Starting in three… two… one… now!” Percy shouts, and the lights all go off.

Someone screams, Thalia swears, and there’s a distinct sound of someone smacking into a wall. Percy’s pretty sure it’s Mr. D.

“Who the hell turned the lights off?” Frank yells.

Percy immediately starts working. He jumps towards the table with the plaque on it, feeling around, but—

“It’s gone!” he yells. “The plaque is gone!”

Just then, the lights come back on. No one has even moved, except for Mr. D, who’s groaning and rubbing his head from where he ran into a wall, and Grover, who apparently backed over his chair in the chaos and flipped over.

“Who took the plaque?” Captain di Angelo thunders.

Percy groans. Whatever head start he had is lost, and time is of the essence. The sooner he can find the plaque from whoever took it, the sooner he’ll be able to get it hidden, and then he just has to wait for the time to run out and his victory to be declared.

He scans the room again. Piper’s on her phone instead of actually working, which is pretty typical, and Mr. D apparently got over the pain of the wall slam with a huge bucket of potato salad that he’s sharing with Tantalus. Percy nearly gags at the sight, turning his eyes to the next person. Grover is groaning as he gets up from the floor, trying to straighten his chair; Captain di Angelo has returned to his office, slamming the door. Annabeth hasn’t moved from her chair, still busily doing paperwork despite the chaos, and Thalia has gone back to her desk, casually cleaning her fingernails with a large hunting knife—_where the hell did she even get that—_and Frank is grabbing a yogurt from the minifridge in the kitchen.

Everything looks normal, but _someone _had to take the plaque, which means someone’s guilty.

He decides to start with Grover.

“Hey, buddy,” he says casually, helping his friend off the ground. “That was a hard fall you took.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t even see the chair in the dark,” Grover says, standing up and brushing himself off, wincing.

“So, did you happen to see who took the plaque?” Percy asks. Yep, totally subtle.

Grover squints at him. “In between the lights going off and me flipping backwards over my chair, no. Why, do you think I did?”

“No, no, of course not—”

“You do!” Grover gasps. “After all we’ve been through, you think I’d betray you like that—”

“No, seriously, I was just trying to figure it out, buddy. I’m gonna go talk to Thalia now,” Percy says, beating a hasty retreat.

He already knows Annabeth isn’t playing, so that rules out her and Grover. Personally, his suspicions are on Piper or Thalia.

“Hey, okay so first, why don’t you put that knife away,” he begins, leaning on Thalia’s desk.

Thalia raises an eyebrow silently.

Percy gulps. “On second thought, yeah, the knife is totally fine. Totally normal. Say, so did you see who took the plaque?”

“Couldn’t really see anything,” Thalia says, shrugging. “Too dark.”

Percy purses his lips. “Yeah, okay. Good chat. You sure you don’t have any suspicions about who might have taken it, though?”

“If I did, why would I tell you?” Thalia asks, deadpan.

“Yup, no clue. Okay, bye Thalia.”

He moves onto Piper. “Hey, look, it’s my childhood bestie! Just in case you didn’t remember, I’m the reason you have this job, and—”

Piper raises a manicured finger. “I’m not telling you anything, Jackson. Get your flat ass out of here.”

“Yeah, seems about right.” Percy notices Annabeth getting up and heading to the bathroom after dropping a large pile of finished paperwork and files on Piper’s desk, and despite ruling her out earlier, he decides to follow her.

“So, Chase,” he says, jogging to catch up with her quick, confident stride, “where are you going in such a hurry?”

Annabeth gives him a weird look. “Um. The bathroom?”

“Are you sure?”

“Percy, I am literally standing at the door of the women’s bathroom. In fact, I’d be inside it if you weren’t out here keeping me from it.”

“Yeah, but the women’s bathroom could be a great hiding place,” Percy hints.

She rolls her eyes, finally seeming to catch his drift. “I already told you I’m not playing.”

“That _could _just be a ploy,” Percy persists.

Annabeth crosses her arms. “I’m not doing this with you. I have to pee and I have a buttload of paperwork to finish, so if you could kindly step aside—”

Grudgingly, Percy steps aside. “Fine, but I’m keeping an eye on you.”

She winks at him as she walks through the bathroom door. “Have fun.”

“I will!” Percy yells idiotically as the door slams before realizing she totally set him up for that. He hears her laughter from the bathroom as he escapes down the hall.

On the way back to his desk, he passes Piper, who’s also heading to the bathroom, and he realizes it’s the perfect time to search her desk. Stealthily, he goes to Piper’s desk and rummages through her drawers and cabinets. He’s beginning to think that she really didn’t take it before he opens that last draw and pushes aside some papers, and there it is. The plaque, the _Amazing Detective/Genius _written on the glittering faux gold, that he specially ordered from some online company.

He nearly cackles out loud before realizing anyone could be watching, and quickly stuffs the plaque into his jacket before calmly walking back to his own desk.

When Piper comes back, he sees her quick scan of the room to make sure none of them have moved, and apparently is satisfied, because she goes back to her phone.

Now, to find a safe place to put the plaque. _This _is the part he planned out already; finally, he’s back on track.

In one of the abandoned storage closets, there’s a tile of the floor that isn’t quite grated properly, and always moved around if you stepped on it the right way. Over the past few weeks, Percy’s wiggled it a little bit every day, until a few days ago when it came loose, revealing a little chamber under the floor.

It’s the perfect size to store the plaque.

He checks his watch. It’s currently 9:30pm, which means there’s over two hours until midnight. He doesn’t know exactly who all is playing, but if he gets up now, every eye on the room will be on him. He’s going to have to wait at least a little longer.

At least, that was his plan, until he realizes he actually has to pee.

Percy tries to ignore it for a while. He really does. But when he tries to hold it, it just gets _worse, _okay, and he starts unconsciously wiggling in his chair as he tries to get paperwork done, distracted.

Annabeth looks over, amused. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“What? No,” Percy scowls.

She looks at him knowingly. “You always start wiggling in your chair when you have to go, but you’re holding it. So. Why are you holding it?”

“No reason,” Percy says, shrugging innocently. “I just, uh. I’m really involved in this—” he gestures vaguely to the computer. “thing that I’m doing.”

Annabeth cocks an eyebrow. “A thing.”

He nods, feeling his cheekbones highlight themselves in red. “Yup.”

She spins around in her chair, grinning smugly. “Whatever you say, weirdo.”

About a minute later, he stands up. “I’m, uh. Gonna go to the bathroom.”

Annabeth doesn’t even look up. “About time.”

Percy blushes fiercely and heads down the hall, his arm tight against his side where he carefully placed the plaque under his coat. No one gives him a second glance as he leaves the main room, and he rejoices in his victory even as he sprints to the bathroom, because _wow _he really needs to pee.

After he washes his hands, he checks the empty hall to make sure the coast is clear before heading down to the abandoned storage room. He knows for a fact that no one ever comes down here, except when Piper’s boyfriend Jason (who’s also Thalia’s brother, although Percy’s like 89% sure that he was adopted because really, no two siblings were ever more different) comes to see Piper on her lunch break and they use the closet as a hookup spot.

He walked in on it once, and later told Piper he wanted to bleach his eyes. She threw a sandwich at him, as you do.

Percy quickly closes the door of the storage room and pads to the corner where the tile is, carefully lifting it up and placing the plaque in the little cubby before letting the tile fall back into place. He stands up, brushing off his hands. Now the plaque should be secure until midnight, and he has no chance of losing.

In less than thirty seconds, he’s back at his desk, innocently chewing a licorice stick as he goes through some case files.

The next few hours actually go relatively quietly. At one point Frank falls through the ceiling where he had apparently been crawling (“I thought you said you weren’t competing!” “I wasn’t, I was just, uh, looking for some yogurt.” “In the _ceiling?_”) and another time Mr. D bursts into the room, covered in what looks like chocolate ice cream (“at least we _hope_ it’s ice cream,” Annabeth mutters) and yelling something about how he and Tantalus found the plaque.

Percy’s heart jumps, but he forces himself to be calm. “You found the plaque? Where?”

Annabeth glances at him weirdly. He tries to keep a straight face.

Mr. D proudly holds up what looks like a gold cowboy hat. “Right here!”

One of the teenagers in the lockup room that they had brought in earlier in the evening for underage drinking tipsily raises his hand. “That’s mine!”

Percy glances at him, and yep, the kid is dressed as a very gold, very scantily clad cowboy. “Mr. D, give him the hat, please.”

Mr. D sulks, but gives the kid his gold hat.

At 11:30pm, Percy decides to go check on the plaque, just to make sure everything’s well and good. He tiptoes down the hall and opens the door the little closet-like room, moves the tile, and—

Nothing.

The plaque is gone.

“Crap,” Percy groans. “Crap, crap, crap.”

He sits back on his heels and tries to think. Who could have taken it? No one goes in here and no one would know about the tile except—

“Piper,” he says aloud, standing up. Maybe she was in here with Jason and happened to notice the tile moving. He sprints from the room, nearly tripping in the hallway in his haste.

“Piper,” he says, skidding to a stop in front of her desk, out of breath from his run. “Where’s the plaque?”

Piper looks up from her phone. “What?”

“The plaque. I know you took it,” he says.

Piper shrugs innocently, popping her gum as she turns back to her phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jackson.”

He growls in frustration. “Piper, just—”

“Just what?” she asks, grinning. “Just give you the plaque? Oh, honey.”

Percy points at her. “Aha! So you _do _have it!”

She shrugs again, but there’s a tiny lift to her mouth and Percy’s known her since he was five years old. She totally has it.

_Again._

He checks the clock. It’s 11:53pm, which means he has seven minutes to find the plaque, get it from whoever currently has it, and get it back to his desk.

This is going to be a little difficult. He tries not to think about it.

Quickly scanning the room, he strides to the little kitchen and casually pulls out a soda from the fridge, popping it open and taking a long sip as he walks back to Piper’s desk.

“So,” he begins. “Are you working for yourself, or is someone else in on this plan, too?”

Piper gives him a dry look. “You seriously think I would let anyone else share my glory?”

“Fair point,” Percy mutters. “So, uh… look over there!” he suddenly shouts. As tricks go, it’s literally the dumbest, oldest one in the book, but it’s almost midnight and he’s running out of ideas. For a split second, Piper actually falls for it, and it’s all he needs. As her head swivels, he pushes her office chair with all his might, the little wheels carrying her, spinning wildly, about ten feet away. In the process, his soda may or may not drench her in a wave of Pepsi.

In the few seconds of perfect silence that follow, Percy drops to his knees and searches her desk, but he now has competition. Captain di Angelo, lured from his office by the noise, shoves Percy aside and rummages through Piper’s drawers.

Percy shoves him back, but the captain just grunts and holds his ground, and then—

_It’s the plaque._

The captain holds it with a death grip, but Percy jumps on his back, grabbing for it. “It’s… mine…” he hisses through his teeth.

“No… I found it…” the captain hisses back, shaking like a dog to get rid of the unwanted load on his back as he attempts to get to his feet.

Percy’s head snaps back as the captain tries to get him off his back, and he bites his tongue so hard that blood suddenly fills his mouth, but he just spits it out and keeps grabbing for the plaque. Captain di Angelo falls over, and they tussle on the ground for a few minutes as the entire precinct gathers around them, chanting _fight, fight, fight, fight—_

Percy just manages to grab the plaque and jump to his feet, mouth full of blood and skin sticky with Pepsi, when an airhorn goes off in his ear.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he shrieks, jumping away. “Whose stupid idea was it for an _airhorn_ to go off at midnight?”

Grover looks hurt as he puts the airhorn down. “Um. Yours?”

Percy considers. “Oh. Right.” He waves the plaque. “But whatever. Victory!”

Most of the precinct cheers, but to his befuddlement, Annabeth and Piper—that latter covered in soda and looking half-amused, half-murderous—are standing next to each other, laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Percy demands.

“You didn’t win,” Annabeth replies smugly. “We did.” With that, she pulls out a plaque from behind her back.

“What?” Percy sputters. “That’s not the real plaque. That’s—”

“Check the one you’re holding,” Piper drawls.

His heart speeding up, Percy finally actually looks at the shiny gold plaque he’s holding.

_Dumbass Detective/Idiot, _it reads.

He groans, letting it fall to the floor. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Annabeth informs him, striding past as she shows him the _Amazing Detective/Genius _plaque she holds in her hands. She and Piper jump up on a desk so they can address the whole precinct. “It all started a few weeks ago. Percy was at his desk, wiggling in his chair, which means he needs to go to the bathroom.”

“Dammit,” Percy mutters.

“If he’s involved in a case, he usually just gets up and goes because he’s bored, but no. He wouldn’t get off his computer. Finally he got up and went to the bathroom, and as soon as he did, I jumped up and checked to see what he had been doing.”

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

She brushes him off. “Whatever. Anyway, turns out he had been ordering a plaque—a very special plaque, just for this occasion. So I got the website name and got a plaque of my own—the one Percy’s currently holding.”

“Nah, it’s actually on the floor. It’s not worthy of being held.”

“That’s when I came in,” Piper continues. “Annabeth came to me and asked if I wanted to be in on her plan, and obviously I said yes. Annabeth might be boring—”

“I’m not boring!” Annabeth protests.

“—but her plans are always airtight. That same week, I found the tile that was loose in the storage room. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then one day I saw Percy sneaking into the room and wiggling the tile, and when it was able to be completely moved a few days later, I knew that’s where he planned to hide the plaque.”

“Fast forward to tonight,” Annabeth says, taking over. “I told everyone I wouldn’t be competing to rule myself out. So when Piper turned the lights off, I was able to grab the plaque and put it in my desk, and no one even noticed.”

Piper moves on. “On her way to the bathroom, Annabeth put a stack of paperwork and files on my desk, but inside one of the folders she had put the plaque, surrounded by papers. While Percy was off talking to Annabeth by the bathroom, I put the plaque into one of the drawers in my desk, knowing that as soon as I got up, Percy would search my desk. Annabeth and I made sure everything was going according to plan when we met up in the bathroom, and by the time we got back, we could see that Percy had the plaque.”

“You’re not that subtle,” Annabeth tells him, grinning.

Percy sulks.

Annabeth takes over again. “Again, Percy started doing that thing where he has to pee but won’t get up, which is how I knew for sure that he had the plaque. He finally went to the bathroom, and on the way back he stashed the plaque under the tile. We knew we couldn’t take it immediately, so we enlisted some help. We got Frank to create a distraction—”

Percy points at him. “I _knew _you weren’t looking for yogurt in the ceiling!”

Frank shrugs bashfully. “They promised a week of free babysitting for my kids if I did. I can’t refuse that! Hazel and I haven’t had date night in a month!”

“Traitor,” Percy mutters resentfully.

“While everyone was cleaning up the mess of the ceiling and Frank, I slipped into the back storage room and got the plaque, put it in my desk, and went back to my paperwork. Meanwhile, Piper took the fake plaque from where she’d been hiding it—”

“I put it in the fridge in a used pizza box with Mr. D’s name on it. No one would even go near it,” Piper says proudly.

“—and put it in her desk, knowing that Percy would probably look there again once he realized someone had taken the real one.”

“I wasn’t expecting the Pepsi shower or the chair-pushing. You really played dirty, and I’m pretty sure you have to make up to it. Best friend’s honor,” Piper says to Percy, folding her arms.

“Not the closet?” Percy pleads.

She nods. “The closet.”

“Dammit,” Percy groans. “This night is getting worse and worse.”

“It can still get worse, I promise,” Annabeth assures. “Anyway, we just had to wait until midnight, and I took the real plaque from my desk even as Percy thought he was the victor. And now,” she says smugly, “everyone in the precinct, including Percy, has to tell me I’m an Amazing Detective/Genius.”

“And that I’m an amazing, all-knowing, wonderful, incredible genius,” Piper puts in.

“That’s not what it says on the plaque!” Percy protests.

She levels him with a glare. “Does it look like I care?”

“Fine, fine.”

“But there’s also another thing,” Annabeth says. “So, Piper. Who had the _Dumbass Detective/Idiot _plaque at midnight, huh?”

Percy’s heart sinks.

“Hmm,” Piper hums thoughtfully, an evil sparkle in her eye. “I’m _pretty_ sure it was Percy Jackson.”

“So, Percy,” Annabeth begins, crossing her arms triumphantly. “Everyone in the precinct has to tell you you’re a Dumbass Detective/Idiot.” She claps her hands. “Alright, everyone!”

“Percy, you’re a dumbass detective/idiot,” the entire precinct choruses, except for Grover, who looks scandalized.

“_Dumbass detective_. I might start using that for you, Jackson, it has a good ring to it,” Thalia remarks, grinning.

“And now, for the victors,” Annabeth continues. “I think I’d like Percy to say it first, wouldn’t you say, Pipes?”

“Absolutely,” Piper says.

“Annabeth and Piper,” Percy begins. “While I think that your tactics were dirty, your planning was impeccable. I am thoroughly impressed, and will never count either of you out as competition again.”

Annabeth nods. “Go on.”

“Hereby, I must announce,” Percy says, spreading his arms, “that Annabeth Chase is an amazing detective/genius, and that Piper McLean is an amazing genius.”

“An amazing, all-knowing, wonderful, incredible genius,” Piper corrects. “But you’re close enough.”

Percy grabs his mostly-empty Pepsi can from Piper’s desk and raises it. “To Annabeth and Piper!”

“To Annabeth and Piper!” the entire precinct choruses.

And looking up at the girls, seeing Annabeth’s face flushed with pleasure and Piper’s grin about to split her cheeks, Percy isn’t that mad about losing after all.

(But next year is a different story.)

•

It’s the middle of November when disaster strikes.

It all starts when Annabeth and Percy, after working ever available lead they have on the case, exhaustedly decide to interview Ethan Nakamura again. After some debate, they agree to bring him to the precinct instead of an interview at the local jail where he’s being held as he waits for trial. Percy has to pull a few strings, but they manage to get him transferred to the precinct quietly and get him into the interrogation room of the precinct. It’s a quiet day at the precinct; most of the police and detectives are out on various patrols and cases, which makes it perfect for interviewing a potentially dangerous criminal in the precinct.

Like the last time they had him in the interrogation room, they stand silently outside the room, looking at him sitting at that table. Annabeth and Percy stand shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed, both secretly dreading what might happen inside that room.

“I’m nervous,” Annabeth admits.

“Me too,” Percy answers. “Just—just making sure, there’s no more information you haven’t told me, right?”

Since the last time they interviewed Ethan, Annabeth’s filled him in on anything she could think of, and Percy now knows that Luke believed she wouldn’t date him because there was another guy in the picture (“there wasn’t,” Annabeth states firmly), that Luke contacted her after he was rescued from the gang and Annabeth wouldn’t talk to him (“one of my biggest regrets,” she admits) and that she hasn’t seen him since she graduated.

“No,” Annabeth replies, firming her lips. “I’ve told you everything I can think of, I promise. And if I think of anything else, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Percy nods. “Good. Then let’s go.”

They file into the room, and Percy watches as Ethan’s face—half covered by his infamous eyepatch—twists into an amused sneer.

“So Chase and her lapdog are back. Didn’t expect that,” he says.

Annabeth ignores his words and sits down next to Percy, folding her hands on the table. “We need more information, Nakamura. And you’re our only hope of getting it.”

He spreads his hands. “Ask away.”

“When did Luke Castellan join the Titans?” Annabeth begins. Percy knows this tactic—asking questions they already know the answers to in order to see if Nakamura will answer truthfully.

Nakamura, apparently, is in more of a condescending mood than the last time they interviewed him. “February of 2015,” he drawls. “I remember because I had joined only a month before.”

“And how did you two begin working together?” Percy continues.

“We were the newbies of the group, so we did a lot of the dirty work that the higher-ups wouldn’t do—petty thievery, transporting drugs, getting food.”

“Getting food?” Percy can’t help but ask.

Ethan grins, the eyepatch causing the smile to look sinister. “Even gangs have to eat. I’m pretty sure I’ve visited every food truck in the city.”

Annabeth shuffles through her papers. “From other sources, we’ve gathered that before you were captured, you and Luke were higher-ups yourselves in the gang. You two called the shots, brought in new members, and handled the cash, among other things. How did you move up the ladder so quickly?” she asks.

Ethan shrugs nonchalantly. “We got tired of doing the dirty work, and Luke was smart. We started listening in on the higher-ups conversations, learning everything we could. Slowly we gathered support, and eventually we were able to take over.”

“And what, I’m supposed to believe that happened with no violence?” Annabeth asks drily.

Nakamura laughs. “It’s a gang, Chase. Sure, some people got hurt, or threatened, but no one was killed.”

“At least, not until your recent body dumps with Castellan,” Percy puts in. “Here’s what we really want, Nakamura—why were you and Luke, the kings of the Titans, doing the so-called dirty work of dumping bodies in dumpsters?”

Nakamura grins as he leans back in his chair, slow, cat-like. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Percy growls in frustration. “Just tell us, Nakamura. You’re going to jail for a long time. Wouldn’t you like to get that shortened?”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Nakamura says. Percy glances at Annabeth in confusion, but she shakes her head. “I’m no snitch.”

Annabeth pinches the bridge of her nose wearily. “Nakamura, we just want to know why Luke would be dumping bodies in dumpsters.”

Nakamura grins again. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Percy’s brow furrows, and he jerks his head to Annabeth. They stride out of the room, Annabeth shooting one last, slightly worried glance toward where Nakamura sits smugly.

“What did he mean, ask him yourself—” Annabeth begins as the door closes behind them, and then stops.

The normally bustling precinct is completely and totally silent, except for the muffled sound of a man’s voice. Annabeth and Percy look at each other in the dim light, and Percy can see the fear in her eyes and they both realize what’s happening.

“Shit,” Percy swears, fumbling with the door to get out of the interrogation side room.

They burst into the main room to see Piper, Thalia, and Grover on their knees, men dressed in black pressing guns to their heads. Thalia looks furious, and Percy knows she could have the man threatening her down in two seconds flat if there weren’t guns on Grover and Piper as well. The unconscious or dead bodies of other policemen and women are scattered throughout the floor of the precinct, and Percy can only hope that the gang didn’t actually use their guns. He and Annabeth would have heard them, right?

But he knows the interrogation room is soundproof, and if they used mufflers on the guns—

The men turn to them. “Get down on your knees, or these ones die,” one of them snarls, and Percy’s about to obey—what else can he do?—when someone else walks into the room.

“It’s alright,” the man says, and Percy sees all the blood drain from Annabeth’s face as she turns to him.

“Luke,” she breathes.

Luke Castellan nods cordially. “Annabeth Chase. Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“What—what are you doing here?” she asks, trembling.

Luke jerks his head towards the interrogation room. “I’m only taking back what’s mine, Annabeth. You of all people know how protective I am of my own. If you’ll excuse me…” he strides quickly down the hall, and Percy hears him conversing with Ethan Nakamura before they both come striding out, Nakamura’s handcuffs gone. Luke snaps his fingers, and another man comes around the corner, gun in his hand, forcing Percy to his knees.

“When I heard from some friends in the prison that Ethan here was being transferred to the precinct, I decided it was time to get him back,” Luke begins.

“What is this, a villain monologue?” Percy snarks. “I would have thought you’d be a bit more original.”

Luke turns to him, raising an eyebrow. Percy gets his first good look at the long, jagged scar snaking up the side of the blond man’s face, and he holds back a shudder. “Percy Jackson. Don’t look surprised that I know your name—I’ve done my research. I’ve been keeping tabs on you, Annabeth, ever since the last time I saw you. If that includes investigating your coworkers and partner on this case, then obviously that’s what I will do.”

Annabeth’s knuckles are white where she clutches the desk. “Why, Luke? We haven’t even talked since—I don’t know, a month before I graduated, right before you—”

“Dropped out of school,” Luke finishes. “Just because we haven’t talked since then doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye on you, Annabeth.”

“Why?” she spits, gesturing to the chaos surrounding them. “Why would you do this?”

Luke steps closer, and pulls a gun from his jacket. “Because I’ve missed you,” he says quietly, touching Annabeth’s face. She cringes and turns away, but he grabs her chin and forces it closer. “Too good for me still?” he sneers. “Well, that will change.”

He turns back to his men who are still holding guns to their friends’ heads, and Percy makes his move. He elbows back into the man’s groin, and then grabs the intruder’s gun and knocks him out with the butt of it as he’s doubled over in pain. The exchange distracts the other goons, and Thalia takes advantage of it as she knocks out the man threatening her and the one holding Piper. Grover, scrawny as he is, has a little trouble with his, but Percy jumps over to help his friend.

All of this only takes a few seconds, and by the time Luke turns around, his men are on the floor, unconscious, while the four detectives and one secretary are standing.

His face tightens with anger. “I think you made a mistake,” he says, looking at Percy with a new interest, but Annabeth steps in front of him.

“No, I think _you _did,” she says, and just then the sound of sirens floats up, shouts of policemen and backup from the street filtering in through an open window.

Luke nods to Nakamura. “Time to go.”

“What about them?” Ethan asks, gesturing to the men on the floor.

“Leave them,” Luke says, but Percy cuts him off.

“Not so fast, Castellan,” he growls, his hands steady on the pistol he aims at the man. “Put your gun down, or I’ll shoot.”

Luke hesitates, his hands slowly rising. From below them, Percy can hear chaotic shouting of officers as they head up the stairs.

“Boss, we gotta go!” shouts Nakamura, halfway out the window.

Annabeth turns her gun on him. “You sure about that?”

And suddenly everything happens at once.

The first wave of officers run through the doors, guns at the ready and shouting _get down, _and _move, move, move, _and _put the guns down or we’ll shoot. _The men that had been threatening Thalia, Grover, and Piper have been regaining consciousness and getting up, and they join the fray. Luke takes advantage of the chaos and jumps out the window, following Nakamura.

Annabeth and Percy run to the window, but the two men have already disappeared. The window exit leads to the roof, and there are a thousand different ways to vanish.

Annabeth slumps against him. “We almost had him,” she whispers in defeat. “We were so close.”

Percy wraps an arm around her shoulder. “We were stupid,” he admits. “Bringing Nakamura here, taking all those risks…”

“We’ll get him next time,” Annabeth says firmly. “At least now we have four more Titan gang members in custody now. More information.” She gestures to where the gang members have been subdued and arrested by the officers.

“How did the back-up get here?” Percy realizes suddenly. The stress of the last ten minute catches up to him all at once, and he sags against the wall.

“I texted Captain di Angelo,” Piper says, coming over. Despite the fact that she was recently held at gunpoint, she’s back on her phone, thumbs tapping busily. “I’ve been practicing typing behind my back just for this occasion.”

Percy hugs her. “You saved us, Pipes,” he says, gruff. “Without you—”

Despite her calm façade, Piper’s shoulders are shaking in his arms, and he holds her closer. “I’m not a detective, but I think we’ve established that I’m a genius,” she says, and her voice is trembling.

“You are,” Annabeth confirms.

Captain di Angelo, who had been out working on a case and returned with the backup, walks over. “We will be tightening security at the nine-nine. Reporters have probably already gotten wind of the break-in, and you all will be asked to make statements.”

Annabeth nods. “We can do that.”

“How are you all?” the captain inquires, and Percy lets himself take a deep, shaking breath.

He’s been _trained_ for situations like this. Police school, training missions, drug busts, robberies, even murders or hostage cases—he’s dealt with them all. But being here, with guns to his friends’ heads and being completely helpless to save them—it brings back his memories of that night.

Of Rachel, and seeing her blood—as red as her hair—staining her white shirt as she lay on the ground, dead.

Of not being able to save her.

Percy looks at Captain di Angelo. “If it’s alright with you, sir, I’d like to go home.”

The captain nods. “Permission granted. All of you go home. You’ve had a traumatic experience.”

They all nod as he leaves to go help medical personnel load injured officers onto stretchers.

“I can’t believe this all happened,” Annabeth says quietly, leaning against him. “I can’t believe he was here.”

“Does—does this make you want to give up on the case? Let someone else take it?” Percy wonders.

He can feel her head shake against his chest. “I’m not letting anyone else get hurt because of me,” she says, quiet, fierce. “We’re bringing those bastards in, and they’re paying for what they’ve done.”

Percy bites his lip. “Alright, then. Let’s do it.”

•

Thankfully, they get an opportunity to put away the details of the case as the holidays rapidly approach. Percy spends Thanksgiving with his mom, sets the turkey on fire accidently, and they end up eating cereal and pumpkin pies while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. You know, just your normal Thanksgiving dinner.

When he goes back to work the Monday after Thanksgiving, he finds Annabeth at her desk, bent over paperwork with a scowl etched into her face.

“Hey, Chase,” he sings, setting his coffee on his desk. “Turn that frown upside down!”

Annabeth grabs his coffee savagely and gulps it down.

“Um. That was mine, but you look like you need it, so. By all means,” Percy says, gesturing to the half-drained cup.

Annabeth glowers.

“So, I’m a little afraid to ask, but how was your Thanksgiving?” Percy ventures a few minutes later, after Annabeth has nearly finished his coffee and looks a little bit calmer.

“Fine,” she snaps, gulping down the last sip of the now-cold beverage.

“Really?” Percy asks, raising an eyebrow. “Because you don’t seem fine.”

Annabeth sighs heavily, closing her eyes. “I, uh. Spent Thanksgiving with my parents.”

“That bad?” Percy asks, sympathetic.

She nods. “My parents are divorced, but they always make a little extra effort around Thanksgiving, and they insist on traveling to New York and staying together in my tiny apartment for three days and just—it’s stressful, to say the least.”

Percy nods, not really knowing what to say. “I’m sorry your Thanksgiving sucked,” he offers. “What do you do for Christmas?”

She shrugs carelessly. “Sometimes I fly to one of my parent’s houses, sometimes I go to a friend’s, sometimes I just stay home. Depends on the year.”

Percy is horrified. “Are you spending this year alone?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, flipping the page of the paperwork she’s doing.

“No. No, no, no,” Percy says. “You’re spending Christmas with my mom and me and that’s final.”

Annabeth looks up, surprised. “Percy, I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know you weren’t, but I still want you to come, okay?” he says gently.

She bites her lip. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden or anything…”

“Nonsense,” he insists. “My mom would love you. She loves—” he flounders, trying to think of something his mom and Annabeth have in common. “She loves the crossword puzzle, and she’s very organized, and—”

Annabeth’s cheeks are flushed with pleasure. “You don’t have to convince me, Percy. I’d love to come.”

“Great,” Percy grins.

Grover sticks his head in between them. “Do I hear wedding bells?”

“Go away, Grover,” Percy groans, pushing his cackling friend out of the way.

Annabeth’s cheeks are still flushed, whether out of amusement or embarrassment he can’t tell, but she’s smiling softly, and he thinks this is going to be a good Christmas.

•

“So, Percy,” Annabeth says a few weeks later, leaning on his desk casually.

Percy guiltily puts away the Twizzlers he’d been snacking on and makes a semblance of doing paperwork. “Yep, what’s up?”

“First, I’m definitely going to be stealing from that stash,” Annabeth begins.

“Dammit.”

“Second, I just got another arrest. Petty theft. Put it on the board.”

Percy stands up, cracking his neck. “What is the score right now? I haven’t checked in a few weeks.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Liar. You checked it yesterday, I saw you.”

“Okay, so I _might_ have checked it recently,” Percy admits. “But I haven’t seen you check it in a while. Do you even know the score?”

Annabeth shrugs nonchalantly. “Maybe.”

“I think we should still officially check it. You know, for educational purposes,” Percy replies, chomping down on a Twizzler and offering Annabeth one.

She takes it primly. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“Alright, everyone, gather around,” Percy shouts, and most of the people in the precinct stop what they’re doing and gather around the whiteboard.

Percy dramatically flips over the whiteboard, revealing the _Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase: Arrest Records _that he wrote on there only a few months ago. It seems like so much longer.

“Percy Jackson, at 37 arrests since September 20th,” he says. “And Annabeth Chase…” he quickly adds the extra arrest, “also with 37 arrests. Aw, you finally caught up to me, ‘beth.”

Annabeth crosses her arms. “Just last week I was at 35 while you had 33. You just had a good case and brought in four this week.”

Percy shrugs. “Still winning.” He turns to the crowd. “You heard it here, folks. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase are tied. To be continued.” He flips the whiteboard over, unaware that Grover was standing behind it and accidently smacks him in the face.

“Percy!”

“Sorry, buddy,” Percy apologizes hastily.

Grover sulks.

Annabeth claps. “Nice job, Percy.”

“I didn’t see him!” Percy protests. “I didn’t mean to, Grover. Honest.”

“I know, but you still owe me,” Grover says grumpily as he plods back to his desk, a hand on his head.

Annabeth grins, stepping closer to him. “Four more months left to beat you. Be ready to hand over that car, Jackson.”

“Oh trust me,” Percy says, taking a step closer, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be going on the worst date ever with me.”

“In your dreams,” Annabeth laughs, and then she freezes for a second. Percy realizes how close they’ve got, and how she has freckles on her nose that he’s never noticed before. For just a second, his gaze flits to her lips.

And then the spell breaks, and she steps back, seemingly unflustered. “Looking forward to beating you, but for now I have work to do.”

“Ugh, I should probably get back to this never-ending pile of paperwork,” Percy groans as he heads back to his desk, trying to ignore his flaming cheeks.

They both sit down and Annabeth’s pen immediately begins scratching away, but Percy can’t focus.

Did he seriously just think about kissing Annabeth Chase?

Yes. Yes, he did.

And honestly, he probably could have seen it coming. They’ve been working together closely for the past few months, and he’s finally gotten to know her—_really _know her. He knows that she uses coconut-scented shampoo and conditioner, and that her favorite perfume is some jasmine concoction her mom gives her every year for her birthday. He knows that she hates oatmeal but eats peanut butter out of the jar, and that her favorite color is lavender. She hates cats and had a German shepherd growing up, and when she was little she wanted to be a firefighter. He knows that she loves sunflowers and peaches are her favorite fruit, and he knows her favorite guilty pleasure is celebrity gossip magazines.

He knows all that about her and more, and when he falls, he falls hard.

And God help him, he’s fallen for Annabeth Chase.

•

“Pass the mac-and-cheese, Mom,” Percy requests with a winning grin.

His mother gives him a disapproving look. “Percy, that’s your fourth helping. Could you not try some of the other food I made?”

“Trust me, Mrs. Jackson, I figured out a long time ago that Percy’s secretly a five-year-old,” Annabeth puts in, smiling.

So, yeah. Annabeth’s at his house for Christmas. It’s pretty great.

After Percy, his mom, and his stepdad, Paul, had unwrapped presents earlier in the morning, Annabeth had arrived, precisely at 11am. He had introduced her to his parents, and they had spent most of the day playing board games and listening to Christmas music. Already, he could tell that his parents completely adored her.

“Percy, can you please help me dish out dessert in the kitchen?” his mom asks a few minutes later.

Percy jumps up. “Certainly. Behave while I’m gone, you two,” he says to Annabeth and Paul. “No more three hour debates on _To Kill a Mockingbird, _please.”

Annabeth spreads her hands. “What can I say? You should have told me that your dad’s an English teacher.”

Paul throws his head back in a laugh. “This one would have been tough to teach. She would have gotten up there and taught the class for me if she thought I wasn’t giving enough information.”

Annabeth grins sheepishly. “That may or may not have happened a few times…”

Percy chuckles as he heads to the kitchen where his mom is grabbing the cake platter from one of the cupboards. “They’re certainly getting along well,” he comments as he gets out dessert plates.

His mom nods, taking a carefully-decorated chocolate cake out of the fridge and setting it on the counter. “So, Percy. What changed?”

Percy blinks. “What do you mean?”

“It was only a few months ago that you were complaining about, and I quote, _the hardass that is Detective Chase,_” Sally says. “So what changed since then? How is she sitting at our dinner table laughing with Paul and making you smile more than I’ve seen you smile in—well, a long time?”

Percy shrugs. “I honestly don’t know, Mom. I guess it started when we were assigned this really big case together, which we’re still working on, and suddenly I just—I had to spend time with her. And then we made this stupid bet, back in September.” He chuckles under his breath. “It was, uh, to see who could have the most arrests in six months.”

His mom laughs, shaking her head. “So you seduced her with a competition?”

“Seduced?” Percy repeats blankly, before realizing what she means. “No, no. It’s not like that at all, Mom. I mean, she’s amazing, and super smart, and really sweet, but also way more tough than you’d expect, and she’s ridiculously driven at her job—she’s probably going to be my boss someday, wouldn’t be surprised, but. It’s not like that.”

Sally listens to him ramble with a soft smile on her face. “Do you even hear yourself, honey?” she asks. “And I saw the way you were looking at her. All day—inside jokes, and laughing together, and being incredibly competitive during a four-hour game of Monopoly—”

“She’s just really good at Monopoly, okay, I have a reputation to uphold—”

“—and long glances when she isn’t looking, and you get this smile on your face when you talk about her,” Sally continues.

Percy groans. “I didn’t think it was _that_ obvious.”

She pats his shoulder. “Only to your mom, sweetheart.”

“But what am I going to do about it?” Percy asks. “I don’t think—honestly, neither of us are in the place to date anyone right now, let alone working on this case, which brings up some dark memories for both of us. And even if we were—first, she probably doesn’t even see me like that, and second, even if she did, how would that even work? We see each other every single day, we’re working very closely on this case—”

Sally puts her hand on his arm. “Honey, I think you’re overthinking this. You’re so busy being worried about all the reasons it wouldn’t work out that you aren’t thinking of what it’d be like if it _did._”

“But if I ask her out and she doesn’t feel the same, or says no because we work together—”

“Then you move on,” Sally says firmly. “You’re both adults, you’ll figure it out. And I can’t speak for Annabeth, but I can tell how much you like her, respect her, admire her. How much you genuinely enjoy being around her. Even if it doesn’t work, as your mom, I think you should try.”

Percy takes a deep breath, nodding. “Okay, then. I guess I will.”

She smiles, patting his cheek. “I love you, Percy.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Percy replies, ruffling her hair, because she’s a head shorter than him and he can’t help but point it out sometimes.

She smacks his shoulder lightly. “Alright, enough. Get your butt into the dining room, we have cake to serve.”

•

“So. Did you have fun?” Percy asks Annabeth later, as he’s driving her back to her apartment.

“I had a wonderful Christmas, Percy,” Annabeth admits. “Your parents are amazing, and this is a million times better than sitting in my apartment all day by myself, watching old Hallmark movies.”

Percy snorts out a laugh. “That’s how you would have spent Christmas? Nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd!” she protests, laughing.

Percy looks over at her dryly. “Annabeth. You argued with my stepdad for an hour tonight about the top five best New York Times crossword puzzles in the last five years.”

“Okay, so I’m a _little_ bit of a nerd,” Annabeth admits, teasing.

He pulls up to the curb next to her apartment and jumps out to get her door. Together, they walk up to the stone steps and pause outside as the snowflakes collect on their coats.

“But in all seriousness, I—I had an amazing day, Percy,” she says, looking up at him a little shyly. There are snowflakes caught in her eyelashes, her blonde curls, gathering along the seams of her blue wool blazer. She steps closer. “I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

He looks into her grey eyes, her face shadowed in the flickering light of the yellow streetlamp, and watches her smile up at him a little bashfully, as if in slow motion.

And in that moment, Percy makes a decision.

He takes a step forward, hands cupping her cheeks, and kisses her.

For a split second, she’s frozen in place, and then she pushes him away. “What—no, stop—”

Percy pulls back, bewildered. “Um. I’m sorry. I just—”

“I can’t—” Annabeth gestures to him, and those grey eyes that had looked up at him, shining with happiness, are now clouded in confusion and doubt and hurt.

“I just thought—” Percy waves his arms wildly, trying to explain. “You had a good time, and we’ve been working together so much, and we’ve finally gotten to know each other. It seemed—I’m sorry, that was such a stupid way to tell you, but—”

Annabeth takes a step back, her voice shaky. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” She turns and runs up the stone steps, and the door shuts with what seems like a deafening click.

Percy stands at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the door as snowflakes swirl around him. His mind whirls, trying to catch up with everything that just happened, but all he can think is _Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth._

What was he _thinking? _Kissing her with no warning, no conversation. He should have talked to her, told her about his feelings, instead of just—just assuming she felt the same. He was stupid, and this is the result. He might have destroyed their partnership on the case, let alone their newly-developed friendship.

He’s such a fucking idiot.

He turns back to his car, still running next to the curb, and gets in the driver’s seat with a heavy heart.

_Merry Christmas to me._

•

Okay, so. He’s not going to lie.

Percy’s really dreading going back to work.

It’s been three days since the kiss, and it’s the longest they’ve gone in months without communicating—no texts, no phone calls, no meeting at a diner or café to discuss the case, no _nothing. _He’s tried to call her a few times, tried to apologize over text, but she leaves him on read and ignores his calls, and he’s kind of going crazy.

He hates this—hates not knowing, not be able to talk with her about how she feels. Yeah, he made his feelings known in a really crappy way, and looking back he would do it totally differently, but he had gotten caught up in the moment. He made a stupid decision, and all he wants to do is _apologize._

But he can’t, and it sucks.

And now he’s on his way to work, he’s going to see her for the first time, and while he’s relieved that at least finally he’ll be able to talk to her, he’s nervous.

He fidgets with the zipper on his jacket on the way up the elevator. It’s never felt so long before.

Finally, the doors open with a ding, and he sees Annabeth.

She’s at her desk, doing paperwork, but she looks as nervous as he does, and glances up when she hears the ding of the elevator.

They lock eyes, and she stands up, eyes darting around as she looks for an escape.

Percy jogs over before she can go anywhere. “Hey, can we talk?”

She bites her lip, not looking him in the eye. “Um. Sure.”

She follows him into the breakroom, where Mr. D and Tantalus are having a pickle-eating contest. “Out,” Percy orders.

“But we’re on a record! Tantalus just ate three pickles in fifteen seconds,” Mr. D protests, pickle juice dribbling down his chin.

“I don’t care,” Percy says, completely unsympathetic. “Go eat pickles at your desks. Throw one at Thalia, while you’re at it.”

They grumble, but eventually pack up their pickle jars and bumble out.

Once they’re alone, Percy closes the door and turns to Annabeth. “So, I need to apologize.”

“No, I just—” Annabeth begins, but Percy holds up his hand.

“Just—just let me say what I have to say, okay?” he asks, and she nods. He takes a deep breath. “I—I’m so sorry, Annabeth. For kissing you, and not talking about it before, and not explaining myself. I should have made sure you were on the same page. My mom—see, on Christmas, she noticed that I liked you as more than a friend or partner—which, by the way, I only recently discovered myself—and she told me I should tell you how I feel.

“But as the plaque you inadvertently gave me states, I _am_ a dumbass, and I got caught up in the moment, with the snow, and you right there, and I just—” he gestures wildly. “Apparently I decided that the best way to make my feelings known was to kiss you with no warning whatsoever, which was totally not cool. I should have talked to you, whether or not you felt—_feel_—the same way.

“And if you don’t, then that’s cool too. You were my partner first, and now you’re my friend, and we’re adults. I’ll respect your decision and move on.” He exhales. “Okay, I’m done, now you can talk.”

A small smile flits across her face. “Um. Thank you for your apology. And I’m sorry too, for reacting the way I did. I just panicked, and instead of talking to you like a normal functioning adult, I ran.”

Percy laughs self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, neither of us really handled this whole thing super well.”

Annabeth chuckles. “You could say that.”

“So… do you want to tell me why you ran?” Percy ventures.

She sits down on the couch, and he follows her example. “I think it was just too much at once,” she begins. “With this case, and how we used to fight like cats and dogs, and working together so much—I don’t know. After seeing Luke only a month ago—”

“Was he the last person you kissed?” Percy asks out of genuine curiosity.

She shakes her head. “No, I’ve had a couple one-night stands and even a short relationship since then, but nothing really worked out. But all the memories of those months with Luke are coming back now, and when you kissed me—”

“I get it, Annabeth. I do,” Percy says gently, touching her hand hesitantly. Annabeth smiles, her eyes a little watery, and covers his hand with hers.

“I guess I should just ask this time, so do—do you feel the same way?” he asks cautiously.

She bites her lip. “Percy, I—I don’t feel the same way, okay. I’m sorry, but—”

“No, no. I get it, seriously,” Percy says, not meeting her eyes. “It’s okay.”

“Like I said, it’s just too much right now. Maybe in the future… after this case, after Luke is behind bars. I honestly don’t even know if I could have feelings for you right now, simply because I’m not in the place to realize if I do or not. Does that make any sense?” Annabeth asks earnestly.

Percy smiles a little. “Not really, but it’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Annabeth whispers. “For understanding.”

“Always.” He squeezes her hand. “Can we just—I don’t know, act like none of this happened?”

She nods. “If that’s good with you.”

He forces a smile. “Of course. Now let’s go work on this case.”

•

January comes, and with it comes the _cold._

No, seriously. Percy _loves_ New York. He loves the city, and the people, and the shops and the tourists and his job and the skyscrapers and the traffic (yes, even the traffic) and the food trucks and literally everything about it.

Everything, that is, except the weather.

The summers of New York City blister and the winters could freeze the gates of hell, and Percy can’t stand extremes.

He comes in one day bundled up in a three coats, two scarfs, and a pair of giant fluffy purple earmuffs he found at the dollar store four years ago. The elevator doors open and Thalia, who’s passing by with a bagel in her hand, bursts out laughing.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“For the record, it is negative 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside. _Raw temperature, _Thalia.” He points at her. “Just because you somehow wear just one leather jacket and jeans no matter what the season doesn’t mean everyone can.”

Thalia gestures at his outfit with the bagel. “That’s a little excessive, I think.”

“Nope, really isn’t,” Percy replies, walking to his desk.

Annabeth glances over at him. “You look like a marshmallow.”

“Ha. Ha, very funny,” Percy groans. “Just let me be warm in peace, okay?”

Annabeth glances over to the thermostat. “Well, it’s 75 degrees in here, so you can probably take off at least one of the coats, Perce.”

Percy scowls. “No way. My fingers are still blue. I’m not taking off my coats until at least 11am.”

And so he doesn’t. They work most of the day, and he keeps his coats on, until about 3pm when he can’t take it anymore.

“Hey, it’s warmed up a bit,” he calls to Annabeth. “Actually hit positive numbers today. Want to grab a late lunch?”

“Your treat,” she says, grabbing her coat.

Their boots crunch on the snow, breath freezing in the air and blinding them with puffs of white. “Where you do you want to go?” Annabeth asks.

“The usual,” Percy says, grinning.

Annabeth shivers in the bitter wind, despite the cold rays of sunshine that made an appearance. “I love winter.”

“You’re joking, right?” Percy asks, shoving his hands further into his pockets.

“No, really,” Annabeth insists. “I love the cold.”

“How?” Percy wonders, incredulous. “I hate it. Every single minute of it. I wish we could just be done with winter already.”

“What, so you can go complain every other second about the heat?” Annabeth asks dryly. “I remember you last summer working on that case—”

“The one with the string of gas station robberies, I remember.”

“And we had to go to like eight different gas stations, but they were all within walking distance, so we walked instead of taking the car with all the summer traffic.”

“Worst decision of my life,” Percy remembers. “It was literally 115 degrees, Annabeth. We were working for six hours. It’s a wonder we didn’t die from heatstroke.”

“Next summer we are definitely taking the car,” Annabeth replies with a laugh.

They arrive at the diner and order hot tomato soup, the special of the day. They laugh and chat about life and different things going on at the office, and it isn’t until they’re leaving that Percy remembers that they didn’t even mention the case once.

He listens as Annabeth chatters on, telling a story from a few days previous about Grover, something to do with a gourmet apple pie and the precinct kitchen microwave, and she’s ducking her head as she laughs and there’s a dimple in her cheek, and Percy’s struck with Annabeth Chase.

He gets it, okay. He gets that just over a month ago, he kissed her, and she said she didn’t feel the same way.

And he’s been _trying. _He’s been trying so damn hard to get over her, to forget about his feelings for her. His mind has used everything from the case, to their jobs, to the fact that she’s incredibly smart and brilliant and amazing and far too good for him, to how only four months ago (it seems like years) when they were fighting every day like cats and dogs, petty feuds wasting their time.

And yet despite that, he can’t stop, because they went grocery shopping again the week before (“how did you run out of pasta in two weeks? We literally bought twelve boxes last trip. How the hell does one man eat that much pasta?” “I don’t know, Annabeth, it’s one of my many talents”) and this time she came home with him and helped him put all his groceries away, lamenting about his lack of organization in the kitchen.

And just yesterday they had gotten up early and grabbed breakfast at one of the little bakeries Percy had introduced her to a few months before (“they have the best blue cupcakes that you will ever eat, Annabeth—” “First, I don’t eat cupcakes, and second, why are they _blue?_” “you’re literally hopeless”) and supposedly it was to go over another detail in the case, but they hadn’t even mentioned it.

And it’s hard, okay. It’s _so_ hard to get over someone that you spend every single day of your damn life with, that you get to know a little better each and every time they talk. He wants to be with her, he wants to hold her hand and learn more about her and go to her apartment and have date nights and be able to kiss her on the cheek—right on that dimple—when she laughs.

He might be a detective, but he can’t solve the mystery of Annabeth Chase.

“Percy? Earth to Percy, hello.” Annabeth jerks him from his thoughts.

He shakes his head. “Oh, sorry. Got lost in thought.”

She rolls her eyes teasingly. “Yeah, I saw that. We should probably be getting back to the office.”

“Oh, yeah.” Percy pays for their meal and they head out into the brilliant winter sunshine.

“So, you hate the cold?” Annabeth begins conversationally as they near the precinct.

Percy nods, still a little distracted. “Um, yeah. Yes. I just told you that.”

Annabeth smirks. “So… I guess you hate snowball fights, then?”

Percy points at her, a grin spreading across his face. “Only when I lose.”

Annabeth grabs a handful of snow and flings it at him. It’s too cold to actually stick together and form a snowball, but a little of it hits his neck, and he swears.

“You’re asking for it,” he promises, and Annabeth squeals as he comes toward her with a handful of snow.

They throw snow at each other until they’re breathless, cheeks flushed and sore from laughing.

Annabeth sniffs, the smile on her face blindingly bright. “I think I’m too cold to continue,”

Percy points at her triumphantly. “Then it’s a draw.”

Annabeth laughs. “Fine. It’s a draw.”

They head inside, stomping the snow from their boots as they step into the elevator.

Piper meets them as the doors open. “You both are covered in snow and your noses are the color of firetrucks,” she notes. “Did you seriously have a snowball fight on your way back from lunch?”

“No,” Annabeth denies, just as Percy admits, “Yes.”

They glare at each other. Piper sighs.

“Well, just quit tracking snow on my floor,” she says absentmindedly, going back to her phone.

“Your floor?” Percy questions, but backs down when Piper shoots him a look. “Um. Yes. Okay. We will stop tracking snow on your floor.”

Grover stands up from his desk as they pass by. “Were you really having a snowball fight?” he asks.

“Yes, Grover,” Percy groans.

“Percy lost,” Annabeth tells him smugly as she sits down at her desk.

“Hey, I thought we agreed it was a draw! You were the one who wanted to go inside, loser.”

Grover sighs happily, resting his chin in his hands. “Watching my favorite couple argue is my therapy.”

“We’re not a couple—” Percy starts.

“We’re not dating,” Annabeth says, shifting uncomfortably.

Grover blinks. “You’re not? But you two would be so perfect together!”

“Grover, buddy. Annabeth and I are not a thing,” Percy says gently, but firmly.

Grover sighs sadly. “Well, if it ever does happen, keep me updated!” He heads to the kitchen with a saucy wink.

Percy sees Annabeth’s smile fall. “Hey, Annabeth—”

“Percy, it’s fine,” she says tersely, sitting down at her desk.

“It’s obviously _not_ fine, judging from your reaction—”

“I said it’s fine.” She stands up and brushes past him. “Now, I have some files to give to Captain di Angelo, so if you’ll excuse me…”

Percy watches her go miserably, still trying to figure out the mystery of Annabeth Chase.

•

Everything falls apart on what starts as a normal day at the office in early March.

It’s a Saturday, and Annabeth and Percy had gone out for breakfast, as had become a weekend tradition, before heading to work together. There’s still snow on the ground, though it’s a little warmer than it had been a few months previous, and they had gotten cinnamon rolls and hot coffee before braving the bitterly cold early morning to get to the precinct.

They settle down at their desks, bantering per usual, and Percy’s going through some old case files. It has nothing to do with _the _case, the one they’ve been working on for the past six months, but he’s gotten behind on these and needs to get them finished before he and Annabeth can work some leads on the Titan gang whereabouts that they discovered recently.

He’s just humming to himself, sipping his coffee and rolling his eyes when Annabeth berates him for slurping, when all of a sudden Captain di Angelo runs—yes, actually _runs, _Percy doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man move that fast—from his office to their desks.

“Jackson, Chase. A call just came through. They found another body in a dumpster about fifteen blocks from here.”

Annabeth and Percy jump up, throwing on their coats, and follow the captain in their own cruiser. The sirens do little to aid against the morning traffic, but it does help some, and they make it to the location in record time.

There are already police there, but the three of them crunch briskly through the snow to the dumpster. Another body is in the snow, having been excavated from the dumpster before they got there.

“What do we have, sir?” Percy asks an officer nearby.

“This is one of the earliest times we’ve found the body in this case,” the officer replies. “It was dropped here only minutes ago, and an officer passing by happened to notice someone throwing the body into the dumpster. The guy got away, but the officer called for backup and we all got here immediately.”

Percy nods. “Has anyone taken a good look at the body yet?”

“No, we were waiting for the lead detectives on the case. I’m assuming it’s the two of you?” the officer asks, nodding to him and Annabeth.

“That’s us.” Annabeth steps forward and kneels in the snow. “Percy, come here.”

“Thank you, officer,” Percy tells the man, and he nods before turning away. Percy kneels in the snow next to Annabeth, lowering his voice. “This is one of the earliest times that they’ve gotten to the body, apart from that one time when they caught Nakamura in the act. We’ve never been the first to look at a body.”

Annabeth nods, catching on. “So we might be able to catch something that other people who looked at it first wouldn’t, with our extensive knowledge on this case.”

Percy grins. “Yep.”

They quickly search his clothes and are about to give up when Annabeth suddenly gasps. “Percy—” She holds out a plastic bag that had been sewed into the man’s shirt. “I wouldn’t have noticed it except that there was a little hole and it just barely peeked out.”

Percy swears, grabbing the bag. “It’s cocaine. A couple hundred thousand dollars’ worth, if I’m not mistaken.” He motions for Captain di Angelo, who’s talking to some other officers, to come over.

The captain excuses himself and kneels in the snow next to them. “What do you have here?”

“It’s coke,” Percy says grimly. “I think I’ve figured it out. The bodies, why other officers have always gotten here first, why the gangs have been dropping them in dumpsters—”

“Please, enlighten us,” the captain says.

“They haven’t been dropping bodies for no reason,” Percy explains. “The gangs have been dropping the bodies with cocaine sewn into the clothes, and someone will pick it up before the police get there. But for once, we’re ahead of them.”

“But the officer who caught Nakamura was there right when the body was dropped off,” the captain says thoughtfully.

Percy slaps his forehead. “I’m such an idiot.”

“I agree,” Annabeth replies, wry. “But why?”

Percy swallows. “There’s a dirty officer, or maybe more than one. Nakamura _wanted _to be caught. That whole thing with Luke coming to the precinct? That was planned ahead of time. I always thought that whole thing was fishy—Nakamura slipping, and just happening to get caught, and then Luke being able to just—walk right into the precinct, without being stopped by anyone.”

“Someone let him in,” Annabeth realizes out loud, the blood draining from her face.

“It was whoever caught Nakamura, who was right there when they were dropping that body,” Captain di Angelo says grimly. “That’s the dirty officer, the one they’re dropping the cocaine off for.” He sighs deeply. “How did we not see it before?”

“Don’t blame yourself, captain,” Annabeth says. “Percy and I are the lead detectives on the case. If anyone should have solved it earlier, it was us.”

“So now we just keep our findings to ourselves until we find the name of that officer who brought Nakamura in in the first place,” Percy murmurs. “We’ll put the cocaine in lockup without letting anyone know.”

“It could be anyone,” Annabeth realizes. “Any one of these officers here, or at another precinct, or even—”

“Even someone at the Nine-Nine,” Percy finishes solemnly.

Captain di Angelo sighs heavily. “To think, that one of our officers could be dealing with the Titan gang—it’s heartbreaking for me to think of.”

Annabeth nods as she stands, putting the bag of cocaine into a plastic evidence bag before inconspicuously slipping inside her coat. They had both been wearing gloves, so Percy knew that any fingerprints left on the bag were still intact.

Captain di Angelo stands also. “Let’s head back to the precinct and get this into evidence lockup. The fewer people who know about it, the better. We can trust no one.”

•

The fingerprints on the bag come back as Ethan Nakamura and Luke Castellan.

“No surprise,” Percy says when they get the results that afternoon. “We already knew they were the ones dropping the bodies. This whole thing also explains why two of the top guys in the gang were the ones dropping the bodies. They couldn’t let any of their goons do it because if they messed up, or got the wrong location—”

“Then someone besides their guy would find the drugs,” Annabeth finishes. “It’s honestly brilliant, if they weren’t murdering their own people just to transfer drugs. How hard is it to just meet up with the dirty officer and give him the cocaine?”

“But dropping the body created a distraction,” Percy realizes. “No one was even considering that there could be anything else going on, everyone was so focused on the body itself.”

Annabeth growls. “We were so stupid, Percy. How did we miss this? How could we have worked on this for six damn months and missed it?”

Percy steps towards her and hugs her impulsively. She relaxes into his arms, and Percy rubs her shoulders gently. “It wasn’t either of our faults, Annabeth. It’s a tough case, and they were pretty brilliant. The dirty officer and the gang were always a couple steps ahead of us.”

She nods against his chest. “I know. But it’s still infuriating.”

Percy bites his lip. “As soon as Captain di Angelo gets the name of the officer who brought in Nakamura, we’ll have our man, and we’ll be able to solve this case. Annabeth, he’ll have names, and locations, and dates—everything we need to do this, okay?”

She pulls back, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah.”

Just then, the captain opens the door of his office and strides towards their desks. “I have the man,” he says in an undertone. “We need to pay him a visit. But we’re going to need backup. Bring Grace and Zhang, and fill them in, but quietly.”

Percy and Annabeth nod, and they quickly find Frank and Thalia, explaining everything. The other detectives are shocked and angry that there was a dirty officer all this time, and they immediately agree to come with.

Annabeth and Percy ride with the captain, all of them tense and nervous as the captain relays his findings. “The dirty officer’s name is Octavian Spencer. He’s been at the 96th precinct for five years, and he was the one who brought in Nakamura four months ago. We can only assume that he’s been the one who gets the drugs every time there’s a new body found.”

Annabeth growls. “He’s going to pay.”

“I got his address from a friend of mine, the captain of the 96th. He was shocked and angry at having a dirty officer in his precinct, and while he’s on a case in another part of the city right now, he gave us full permission to arrest Octavian on the grounds of dealing drugs and burying evidence, and even being in conspiracy for murder. Once we bring him to jail, he won’t be getting out for a long time.” The captain looks back at Annabeth, who’s sitting next to Percy in the back seat. “With him in custody, we might even be able to bring in Luke and much of the Titan gang.”

Percy feels Annabeth tremble a little bit next to him, and he reaches over and squeezes her hand, quick. She looks at him gratefully, surprised, before a shadow passes over her face and she pulls away, turning to face the window.

Percy’s heart aches.

They reach the apartment complex where Octavian lives, according to the captain’s information, and confer with Thalia and Frank before the five of them enter the building and head up the stairs, guns drawn. They don’t know what they’re going to encounter at the top of the stairs, and Percy knows they need to be ready for anything.

They file silently down the dimly-lit hall to Octavian’s room. After a nod from the captain, Percy bangs on the door. “Open up! It’s the police!”

A few seconds go by and there’s sounds filtering in from behind the door, but no one answers. Percy kicks down the door as the five of them rush in and file into the main room, guns drawn.

There’s no one there.

“I heard voices,” Annabeth mutters. “There were at least two people here, but the door to the balcony is locked from the inside. They wouldn’t have had enough time to escape that way.”

“Spread out,” Percy instructs. “Check everywhere.” But right as they all begin to move, two men come out from the hallway.

It’s Luke Castellan, holding another man, who Percy guesses is Octavian Spencer, at gunpoint. “So,” the blond man says calmly, “you finally figured it out.”

“It was you all along,” Percy says. “The drugs, the bodies, even him.” He nods toward Octavian, who’s cowering with Luke’s powerful grip on his shoulder and a machine gun at his head.

Luke nods. “It was pathetic, honestly. How long you took to figure it out. I’m a bit impressed with the abilities of this one—” he prods Octavian forward, and the man squeaks and complies. “He was able to deceive you, the lead detectives on the case, for months, let alone his own coworkers, his own captain.”

“It’s over, Luke,” Percy says firmly. “With Octavian, we’ll have information, locations, names. The Titan gang will be dismantled for good. Not to mention, you’re surrounded. You’re not getting out of this one.”

Luke raises an eyebrow, the scar on his face twisting. “I suppose you’re right.” He releases the machine gun with one hand to snap his fingers, and immediately Ethan Nakamura comes out of the hallway, his familiar eyepatch in place.

“And we meet again,” he sneers, cocking his own gun. “Looks like you aren’t the only ones with backup.”

“It’s two against five,” Percy replies. “You’re outnumbered. Give up now before someone gets hurt.”

During the exchange, Luke had dropped his gun a notch, and Octavian seemed to take that as his chance. He sprints toward the door, but before he gets three feet Luke turns his gun on him and lets out a round of bullets.

Percy holds back bile as Octavian crumples, blood spurting from numerous bullet holes in his head and back. “Why did you kill him?” he croaks.

“Because you needed him alive, and I didn’t,” Luke says calmly.

Annabeth steps forward. This whole time she’s been behind Thalia, and Luke’s been preoccupied, so he hasn’t even noticed her. But now she comes closer, gun at the ready, and Luke’s expression changes for the first time.

“Annabeth,” he breathes.

Annabeth doesn’t flinch. “Luke.”

Luke’s face hardens. “I suppose this whole thing—” he gestures at the five officers holding guns, “was your idea?”

“We didn’t even know you’d be here,” Annabeth tells him. “We were coming to arrest Octavian.”

Luke’s face changes, and for a split second Percy can see the person he was before he was kidnapped, before he got that scar. “So this was just chance,” he muses. “That we would meet again.”

“Luke, I’m never having anything to do with you again,” Annabeth says. “I don’t know what you think will happen, but you’re a criminal. You’ve murdered countless people, and for what? Money? Your own personal vendetta?”

“It was all for you,” Luke says, taking a step forward. Immediately, five guns follow him, and he laughs bitterly. “Touchy, are you?”

“It was—it was all for me?” Annabeth questions, her voice shaky. “What do you mean?”

“I was in love with you, Annabeth,” Luke says, and his voice changes from the callous tone of before to something pleading, something wanting. “And then you turned me down, and I—I had to do something.”

“But you got kidnapped,” Annabeth says, and there are tears in her eyes.

He nods. “And I realized the kind of power that I could have. Those guys—they hurt me. For weeks, I was cut, and burned, and hit, and for what? When I was rescued, I wanted nothing more than to go back, and show them that I could stand up for myself. I wanted revenge.”

“All the bodies,” Annabeth realizes out loud. “There have been twelve bodies found in the past six months. Were they—”

Luke nods, the flash of a grin passing over his face. “They were the men who tortured me. I remembered their faces like it was yesterday, and I made sure each one of them suffered.”

“We’ve heard enough,” Percy says.

Nakamura, behind Luke, shifts nervously. “Yeah, boss. I know you wanted the girl, but can we just forget her and get out of here?”

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” Luke snaps, his gaze never leaving Annabeth. “This all was for you.”

“You said that,” Annabeth says evenly. “What do you mean?”

“The kidnapping—it was what kept me from you,” Luke says, gesturing wildly. Percy warily keeps an eye on the automated rifle in the man’s hand. “So I got my revenge on them and now I want you.”

“I’m not coming with you, Luke. You’re a murderer. Even if you weren’t—what we had, it was physical, it was years ago. Why are you still obsessed about this?”

“We could rule the world, Annabeth,” Luke pleads. “We could get out of here, and you can be part of the gang. Or, if you want, we could leave New York, go to Greece, like you always wanted…”

Annabeth scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

Luke’s expression hardens. “So you’re not even considering it? What I could give you? You don’t know how powerful I am, Annabeth. You don’t know what I could do for you.”

“I know that I have a life here, and I’m not a criminal, Luke. I could never be with you. Never again.”

“You heard her,” Thalia calls. “Drop your guns, both of you. You’re under arrest.”

“Boss, let’s just go,” Nakamura begs. “We can still make it out of here. They’re gonna call for backup soon, we’re not gonna make it…”

An expression of pure bitterness, pure rage, passes over Luke’s face. He ignores Nakamura, speaking only to Annabeth. “You are no longer any use to me then.”

And in that moment, Percy realizes what’s about to happen.

It’s like everything slows down. Luke lifts his gun, and the other officers close in, but all the psychopath’s focus is on Annabeth.

Percy knows Annabeth is about to die.

And of course that’s when the damn universe lets him realize that he’s in love with her.

The last six months catch up to him—working together constantly, going out for breakfast, her being with his family for Christmas, the kiss, their talk afterwards, grocery shopping together, him trying to get over her.

And yeah, okay, so. He failed. He didn’t get over her. Instead, he fell in love with her, and now she’s about to die. Everything with Rachel comes back, that night when he saw her about to be shot and knowing he couldn’t do a thing about it.

He looks at Annabeth, and sees the center of his universe; he looks at Annabeth and sees the sun. He looks at her and sees the incredible woman that, God help him, he’s in love with.

And he makes a decision.

In that second—that one, precious second of time—he jumps in front of her, and then the gun goes off.

The sound explodes in his ears, and he feels a ripping pain through his abdomen—the automated rifle’s bullet was fast enough, strong enough, close enough, to pierce through his Kevlar vest, as he knew it would be—and he falls.

His vision’s blurry and there’s a roaring in his ears, but he hears Annabeth scream, hears the captain and Thali and Frank rushing towards Luke and Nakamura, arresting them. He lies on the ground with blood spilling from a bullet wound in his chest and he is happy, because Annabeth’s okay.

She leans over him, and her mouth is moving, but he can barely hear her through the waves of pain. “We’re getting… ambulance… hang on….”

And then Thalia and Frank are there too—“Percy, hold on, you’re going to be okay—”

“Shit, Jackson, you’ve gotta hold on, you’ve gotta stay awake—”

But there’s a blackness in front of his eyes, and as his vision fails the pain fades away, and he falls into darkness.

The last thing he sees is Annabeth saying something, but he can’t hear her, and so he just manages one last smile for her before slipping away.

•

The beeping wakes him up.

It’s incessant, and annoying, and at first he thinks it’s his alarm clock. He moves to swat it and turn it off, but pain shoots through his body when he shifts, and Percy opens his eyes.

He’s in a hospital bed, covered in cords and IVs and monitors. The beeping is coming from one of the many machines he’s hooked up to, and he blinks a few times before the memories flood back.

“Annabeth,” he says aloud as he remembers what happened. _Is she okay, did she make it out, is Luke gone—_

“Percy?”

At first he thinks he’s dreaming, but she’s there, sitting in one of the hospital chairs next to his bed and blinking sleep from her eyes. There are dark circles under them, and she looks like she hasn’t moved in days.

“Annabeth,” he rasps.

“Percy,” she says, like she can’t believe he actually woke up, before she sobs and stands up, rushing to him and throwing her arms around.

Percy hisses involuntarily against the onslaught of pain, and she pulls back, tear tracks on her cheeks. “Oh, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine,” he tells her, and it is. Every beat of his heart reminds him _I’m alive, I’m alive, Annabeth’s here, Annabeth’s here._

“Your mom and Paul just left about twenty minutes ago, I think,” Annabeth explains quietly. “They’ve been here for three days, ever since—”

“I’ve been out for three days?”

“Percy, we thought you’d be out for good,” she says, and there’s a catch in her voice.

Percy smiles wryly. “Yeah, I kind of thought so too.”

“Um. I guess you should know that we caught Luke, and Nakamura,” she tells him stiffly. “We finally got Nakamura to talk, and he gave us names, locations, everything. In the space of three days, the Titan gang has been completely dismantled, and Luke and Nakamura and a lot of other criminals are going to be put away for good.”

Percy breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s—that’s good.”

Annabeth nods. “Yeah.”

“So are you okay?” he asks her. “And don’t just say you’re fine, because I know you aren’t. How are you, really?”

“How am I?” Annabeth repeats. “How am I? Percy, I watched you take a bullet for me. I watched you get _shot_. How do you think I am?”

“Um. Not good?” Percy guesses, and he thinks she might actually slap him, her face is that livid and her knuckles are turning white from where she’s grasping the side of the hospital bed.

“Why did you took that fucking bullet for me, Percy?” she spits. “Why did you just—throw your life away. You could have died. You _did _die, Percy. Your heart stopped three fucking times when you were in surgery. The doctors don’t know how you pulled through—you lost too much blood, you were _gone._ You should have seen your mom when she arrived—she was wrecked, and screaming, and we all thought you were—god, Percy, we thought you were dead.”

Percy swallows, picturing how it must have been, and everything that she’s left out. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says carefully. “But I—Annabeth, I am not sorry for taking that bullet for you. I’m _not_, Annabeth, and you can be mad at me all you want, but—”

“Why did you take it for me?” Annabeth repeats, her voice shaking.

“I wasn’t going to let another partner die, not when I could help it,” Percy says firmly.

“What, so that was it?” Annabeth scoffs, laughing bitterly through her tears. “Survivor’s guilt? You were going to let me live with what you’ve been living with for the past nine years, ever since your partner got killed and you weren’t able to save her?”

“Not just that,” Percy admits quietly.

Annabeth’s voice rises. “Then _what_, Percy? Why did you take that fucking bullet for me?”

“Because I’m in love with you, Annabeth,” he shouts. “I’m fucking in love with you and I couldn’t—I _wouldn’t—_let you die, not on my watch.”

Annabeth’s expression changes, and for a second, Percy thinks she might hit him, life-threatening bullet wound or no, and then—

She kisses him.

He freezes for a second as his mind beholds this strange new phenomenon—Annabeth’s lips pressed against his, her cheeks wet with tears and she tastes like vanilla ice cream, the kind you can get from hospital kitchens.

And then he kisses her back.

She sits on the bed, hands cupping his cheeks, and he kisses her as hard as he can without actually moving, because. You know. Bullet wound and all that.

But despite the awkward position, and the fact that any of his coworkers or the hospital staff could walk in on them at any time, and anything else the universe could use to ruin this one, precious moment in time—

It’s perfect.

Annabeth pulls back, her eyes wide and wet. “I love you too, you idiot,” she sobs. “I’ve been falling in love with you ever since you kissed me, and I told you I didn’t feel the same and then I _did _but I couldn’t take it back because I thought you were over me, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and whenever someone would tease us about being a couple it would hurt _so bad _because we had had that chance—you had given me that chance—and I threw it away and I thought I’d never get it back, and—”

“Annabeth.” Percy holds up his hand. “Breathe.”

Still crying, she climbs up on the bed—carefully this time—and snuggles against him, leaning on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her, holding her close.

“So how is this going to work?” she asks quietly after a few moments of holding each other tightly.

Percy presses a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know yet for sure, but I love you, and I’m alive. We have time to figure it out.”

She nods, and leans against his chest. Suddenly, she sits up again. “You owe me a date.”

“What?”

Annabeth smiles. “It’s March 20th. We—everyone at the precinct, I mean—decided that your sacrifice definitely earned you all the arrests from the case. Without you, Luke might have gotten away, and everything would have been lost.”

A slow grin stretches across his face as he realizes what she means. “So I won the bet?”

“You won the bet,” Annabeth confirms.

Percy smiles sleepily. “I guess we’ll just have to go on the worse date ever together, huh?”

“I think I can handle that.”

Percy leans down and kisses her. “Any date is going to be amazing as long as you’re with me.”

“Well, if you look at it that way, you won’t fulfill your end of the bet, so you can give me your car,” Annabeth deadpans.

“No way. We’ve gone over this, Annabeth. I love my car.”

“As much as you love me?” she asks, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

“Not quite, but close.”

He feels her laughing against his chest. “I love you too.”

Percy closes his eyes, holding her tight. “Annabeth Chase, will you go on the worst date ever with me?”

“I will,” Annabeth replies. “And a date after that, and a date after that, and another, and another.”

“Sounds like I definitely won the bet,” Percy teases.

Annabeth ducks her head, laughing. “I think we both got a good deal out of it.”

And when she kisses him again, Percy’s pretty inclined to agree.

•


End file.
